


Dark Souls Smut Stories/Requests!

by AbysswalkerAstraea



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I, Dark Souls II, Dark Souls III
Genre: Abysswatcher is a dick in chapter 9, Big Dicks, Bisexuality, Breeding, Ciaran is tiny and i love it, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Desecrating firekeeper tower with sex l o l, Dicks big enough to drive you crazaay, Dominance, Double Penetration, Edging, F/F, F/M, Fantasy Sex, Gender Neutral, Hate turned to lust, I love size kinks;), M/M, Maid, Masturbation, Mommy Kink, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Obedience, Object Penetration, Oral Sex, Ornstein and Artorias get it on a few times, Other, Polyamorous Character, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Prostitution elements, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slightly dubious consent sometimes, Spitroasting, Submission, Tall Gwyndolin, Tentacle Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Touch-Starved, Twins, Usurpation of Fire, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, Yo the artorias/ciaran/ornstein fic is 7000 words long LMAO smutty af, a lot of cum, armour kink, cock drunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbysswalkerAstraea/pseuds/AbysswalkerAstraea
Summary: Aside from my main fics, any little indulgent smuts that I have will be posted here! And if you have any requests, I'd gladly accept them!whether they be fucked up, kinky or just shameless smut, I'm down for it!---------REQUESTS ARE OPEN, LET ME KNOW! ❤---------
Relationships: Anri of Astora/Ashen One, Artorias the Abysswalker & Lord's Blade Ciaran & Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Artorias the Abysswalker/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Artorias the Abysswalker/Lord's Blade Ciaran, Artorias the Abysswalker/Reader, Ashen One/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Ashen One/Eygon of Carim, Ashen One/Knight Slayer Tsorig, Ashen One/Lorian Elder Prince, Ashen One/Lorian Elder Prince/Lothric Younger Prince, Ashen One/Orbeck of Vinheim, Ashen One/Ringfinger Leonhard, Chosen Undead/Hawkwood, Chosen Undead/Laurentius of the Great Swamp, Chosen Undead/Lautrec of Carim, Chosen Undead/Solaire of Astora, Chosen Undead/The Nameless King (Dark Souls), Chosen Undead/Unbreakable Patches (Dark Souls), Chosen undead - Relationship, Creighton the Wanderer/You, Dark Sun Gwyndolin/You, Lord's Blade Ciaran/Dragon Slayer Ornstein
Comments: 181
Kudos: 121





	1. Tsorig - F/m/m

**Author's Note:**

> So this is unique! The thought hit me last night and I thought it sounded really interesting! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> Pls don't be shy to give me any opinions and requests. Kudos too, if you enjoy my stories ❤

☆ Two Tsorigs?! ☆

\-----------------------------

Venturing through the smoldering lake had been a memory one simply could never forget. What with the deadly ballista and gargantuan, aggravated worm, it was most certainly a day you never wished to repeat again. 

With cunning speed and skill, bypassing the horrific worm had soon become a victory, as well as discovering a nearby bonfire within a little cave. There, you were relieved to at least find a sense of solace and peace - despite the roaring smash of giant sized arrows denting the ground outside - and sat perched beside the soothing flames.

It was there, in your moment of relief, that a flicker of white had caused your heart to leap pleasantly. Finally, a fellow phantom at the ready to help someone as pitiful as yourself! And by the looks of his lingering shade, he was a big man, adorning armour one with immense vitality could only handle, not to mention his impressive greatsword and greatshield. 

"Tsorig?", you tested the name carefully. Any cautious thoughts fled your mind, he was a helpful phantom, and as such you would certainly treat him respectfully no matter his intimidating size. 

Thus began your journey with Tsorig, the silent Knight. The knight who seemed to crush every fire and poisonous, vile creature with a mere swing of his greatsword, crushing the victim to utter mush. Despite the grotesque scenery of bodies littering the ground, blood and brain splattered in their wake, you couldn't help but feel at ease to have such a formidable Knight alongside you.

It was safe to say that venturing through the fiery ruins proved to be far more relaxing than you could have ever hoped for. All thanks to that wall of a man, no doubt. You often thanked him, allowed idle conversation to flow. Though, can one call it conversation when it is completely one sided? Probably not. 

Still, progression was key - evidently to Tsorig, too, as it was you who fought to keep up with him. 

But of course there HAD to be a bump in the road somewhere. Namely, the dwellings of the vile basilisks. Tsorig was at your every beck and call, guarding your small form with his terrifying frame. But it was only inevitable that one as clumsy as yourself would shriek and run from an approaching, wide eyed basilisk. 

Only when you had ran, had the sound of a deep, gravelly voice screamed for you to halt. Your entire being shook with fright at the sound, though your feet simply would not allow you to stop. And now, shrouded in a deathly musk produced from the basilisk, Tsorig was no where to be seen. 

And it was at that moment that you knew you had made a mistake. With large steps ahead of you, your instinct had you turn swiftly to the left, an empty path your only vision. You couldn't explain how it had happened, truly.

All you remembered was the upright and proud image of Tsorig, free of his phantom-esque hue, standing with greatsword in hand beside a flaming pool of lava. "Tsorig! You're alright!", you screamed, running towards the formidable Knight eagerly. 

Then, with a leap, wrapped your arms around his mid section with a smile. "Forgive me for running off. Those basilisks terrified me.", you chuckled at yourself, gazing up at the silent Knight. He was rigid, unmoving. Odd, you thought. And, why had he equipped the ring which allows him to appear human? 

No matter, you thought. Smiling once more up at him, you had little idea, at the time, the utter foolishness you had just committed. 

The thunderous clunk of Tsorigs greatsword dropping to the ground had you jump in fright. Then, his shield was tossed carelessly to his opposite side. Lord knows how the current predicament you were in even happened, but...

\---

"T-this is most improper!", you gasped, a hand against the wall ahead of you as the towering figure of Tsorig engulfed your form, large hands either side of your shoulders, which in turn had you squished against the wall, back to his chest, dick inside your innocent intimates.

The man had simply snapped. All rigidness had left his body as he manhandled you like a ragdoll, forcing your firekeepers robe (one you had been oh so proud at finding) up your smooth legs, tugging at it like an untamed beast, baring you for anyone to see.

But you loved it. Oh, yes. You could here the utterly lewd squelch of wetness and friction from between your legs, the stickiness merely growing the more he forced his thick length into you. The man was a giant, you could feel your poor cervix getting battered, your knees shaking from the sheer force he used as he fucked you up against the wall like his very own toy. 

A man had never taken you like this before. This was beastial, utterly desperate to fuck, to breed, to dominate. The obscene sounds that left your throat merely grew, from high and keening to wailing in utter bliss, mindless, cock drunk. 

You couldn't think. Only feel as his girthy manhood pounded into you relentlessly, the fat, soft globes of your backside smacking against his hips repeatedly, bouncing to his every thrust like a whore.

Gasping, your grip on the wall faltered as a glimmer of white did not cease to escape your peripheral. "Goodness, s-stop! We're being watched!" Your hiss elongated into a drawn out moan, your slippery little clitoris on fire as Tsorigs heavy balls slapped against it repeatedly. 

Alas, he did not stop, would not stop. No, the knight merely spread your bouncing cheeks apart with his hands, causing you to shriek at the absurdity of his actions, the..the dirtiness of it! And then, utterly mortified and frozen, you could only blink bleary as a white form stood a mere 10 feet away.

Tsorig.

"B-but how..? Tsorig?"

The phantom gazed at you. In fact, he didn't even give you the courtesy of averting his gaze. How were there two of him? If he was the real phantom, then this Tsorig must be..an invader? Enemy?

In truth, little thought transpired in your mind, despite the complete shock of it all, and you soon gaped as the figure of your phantom Tsorig appeared to deliberate. Then, with rash movements, his sword was thrown beside his twins, and soon enough - a moment you cannot remember due to your mind feeling like mush - you were suddenly bent over against cold, hard steps and fucked by the invader with your phantoms equally large dick in your mouth.

You gurgled around the cock being forced down your hoarse throat, unrelenting and rock solid as phantom Tsorig sought his own peak, deep huffs emitting from his chest. 

Whines and wails echoed throughout the ruins, your whorish moans spurring on the knight behind you who roughly forced your head into his twins crotch as he fucked you senseless. You'd scream if it wasn't for the mouth watering cock in your own mouth.

It wasn't long before the mind shattering pinnacle was reached, liquid squirting across the invader Tsorigs thighs as you choked on the phantoms dick, mind in oblivion, pussy pulsing and ready to accept the mans burning hot cum. 

With a grunt, your hair was tugged back roughly as the telltale signs of release flooded your depths, coating it in Tsorigs hot cum before he retrieved himself. 

In a whirl, you were suddenly below the phantom tsorig, cock ripped from your mouth as he pounded your sopping pussy, cum and lubrication oozing down your thighs as you cried out for him to fill you up. 

With a groan, the phantom released his heavy load inside of you as deeply as he could, cock against your cervix as he aimed to coat your womb.

Satisfied, he, too, retrieved himself. Now, the two identical knights gazed down at you silently, towering above your form as their slowly hardening cocks seemed to deliberate on round two. 

You were boneless. Pleasantly numb and incoherently babbling as two loads of cum oozed out of your puffy lips. You smiled giddily.

Though, behind the two figures and up ahead, on a lonely path overlooking the lava, a cold, Black knights posture was fully facing you. Watching you from above. 

And he didn't look away, even when the two Tsorigs had you crying their names for a second round.


	2. Nameless King - F/m

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You expected death. You had forcibly entered his home and destroyed his dragon kin after all. What you got instead was utterly life changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, but I found it soo hot to write this lmao. I hope you enjoyed ❤

☆Nameless King☆ 

\-----------------------------

Perhaps it had been the utter audacity which caused you to be in this situation. You, approaching and threatening a God. You, a mere, useless human, defying a being of light? Maybe. 

The ancient way of white symbol, melded in iron and attached to a chain around your neck, your evident faith to Gwyn - perhaps that is what really invoked such ire. 

He was mindless, that much was certain. Hollowed, a husk of his former self no doubt. A tragic pity, even if you found nary an ounce of said pity within your heart at this moment.

Blinking out of your dazed reverie, your little hands gripped the unruly mane of a God, white and ashen, as the giant-like man thrusted up into your little pussy, one designed for human sized cocks, not that of a Gods with the girth of your wrist. 

The stretch was incomparable to anything, any man. You had yourself to blame. Fighting your way through his home, slaughtering his dragon kin. Yes, the audacity. Little did you know you'd be in the sturdy lap of the man who was exiled from the very annals of history. The man with no name, no memory. 

A God.

And so, like a little servant girl, all you could do was bounce upon his cock, the thick veins and ridges spreading your pussy beyond what was normal. You ought to be frightened, terrified even. And yet, all you could think of is living here forever with this husk of a God, letting him pound you until you withered away like all humans inevitably do.

Even in height, you reached his belly button. So to sit in his very lap, hand large enough to enclose around your petite waist, you could only wonder why he hadn't crushed you yet. 

Lightning crackled and struck around the two of you, depending on how rough he got. The clouds were swirling wildly, tempestuously. Dragons lined the skies in a glorious circle, as though eying a prey.

Regardless, the length sinking into you was your only concern, your only thought. Hands against his chest, you fucked yourself upon his God like cock until you were bursting, soaking his already tattered robes as a multitude of waves seemed to burst from you one after the other.

Your clung to him desperately, tears cascading down your scarlet cheeks as you babbled and cried out for more, more, more.

Orgasm after orgasm wracked your little frame. If this is how God's fucked, then you wished you were a Goddess. But you were better, you supposed. Getting fucked by the God of War wasn't a title many people could proudly announce, especially a human. 

And then, a sensation quite unlike any other made you scream. Light traces of static swirled around your engorged clit like a sharp vibration, evidently controlled by the God as his empty eyes gazed down at your centre.

For a moment, your body slumped, a wave of indescribable pleasure crashing into you as you sobbed, head thrown back as drool plastered your chin. Your thighs shook violently as the static increased. You thrashed and wailed, it was too much, too much--

Your fists pounded his chest in desperation, your body working itself in overdrive as you fucked his cock like a toy, slipping the entire length in and out with little resistance anymore, screams and wails following in the wake of slapping skin. 

You hardly realised the trickle of urine escape your abused pussy, your body unable to hold such a fluid due to the sheer pleasure of it all. The static continued to hum even as you coated his balls in piss and cum, your tongue threatening to loll out as your jaw unhinged itself to make way for your fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh orgasm - you didn't know anymore. 

You felt like you could die. Your entire body was spasming, your nerves on fire. Your legs quaked to the point where you slumped fully against him now, unmoving, as he pistoned up into you.

Soon, the God surely became restless, for the feeling of rough hands gripping your waist and forcing your body up and down had you howling as he fucked you like his cocksleeve. You couldn't move, could only receive his violent thrusting until his final grunt.

It was surreal. His balls seemed to never be empty, his cum gushing into you like a never ending spring, coating your insides until the liquid simply had no room but to splatter out of your insides and across his balls and thighs, bubbling lewdly as strings of the substance joined your skin together by little threads of white. 

Your head lolled against his massive chest, pussy pulsating frantically as it lapped up as much cum as possible. Then, with a satisfied breath and surely empty balls by now, he lifted you with ease into the air, hovering above his cock as his cum barreled out of you in arousing displays of splatters and gushes. 

Your pussy was quivering, clit aching with the need for more. You felt utterly breeded, and yet so content. The God gazed up at you, your legs spread apart as his strength allowed him to hold you up and open above him - impossible for a human - merely staring at your puffy labia and little pink hole that he had ravaged. 

And then, with a spark, your clit exploded once more with the hum of static, and you were certain it blinded you from the sheer bliss, orgasm exploding out of you in jets.

It was then and there, that the Nameless King decided to fuck you for weeks in his dwindling state. That appeared to be a decision even his hollowed mind could certainly make.


	3. Lothric - f/m (soft dom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was surely the end for him and his brother, lothric thought. It came as a surprise when the woman's way of negotiating far exceeded anything he had ever experienced before..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lothric fic yaay. Pretty simple, oral based fic, but was fun to write. I didnt nail the whole soft dom thing as well as I wanted but that kind of writing style is still practice for me. 
> 
> Pls enjoy x

☆Lothric☆  
\-------------------

"N-no, brother..", a cowering form shook above a struggling, large figure, one that was evidently crippled and very much fighting to approach the smaller male. He growled and snarled, though it was futile. A nameless undead, claimed to be chosen, one of ash, stood hooded at a distance, watching. 

The youngest, Lothric, you recalled, set his horrified eyes upon you, his light eyes glistening with unshed tears for his incapacitated brother."What..what hast thou done to him?" The younger prince spat at the hooded figure, voice quivering at the sight of Lorian struggling with all his might to slip free of the invisible rope that seems to have trapped him, but to no avail.

The figure approached with an air of ease, unperturbed by the vicious knight upon the floor, at least twice the ashen ones height, who became more frantic in his tossing and turning the closer the Ash approached his younger brother. 

Lothric, upon his knees in utter frailty, refused to allow his strong gaze to drop from the Ashen one. With a defeated nod, the male glanced at his brother softly. "Fear not, Brother. Thou wilst be with me soon, in death." 

Lothrics head lowered. He cared little for his own life, as long as he had his brother with him. Hands in his lap, his bony fingers intertwined with one another as he could only pray they would do no cruel harm to Lorian. He'd suffered enough. Lothric would not beg for his life, nor would he plead. No, it was time.

"There was a time I would've loved to see you in such a state, Lord. Down on your knees, arrogance wiped clean from that face of yours", a feminine voice scoffed condescendingly. Lothric slowly glanced upwards, the voice seemed oddly familiar. 

Slowly, the woman's hood lowered, revealing brunette hair and blue eyes. They were cold, he noted, though so deviously amused, somewhere in the far depths of her gaze. Gazing to her right, Lothric jolted upon seeing his brothers form laying far too still. Had she..Is he..?

"Calm down. He's merely sedated - a spell of mine. I needed him out of the way. Fear not, I mean you both no real harm.", her edged smile was seemingly sarcastic. 

Lothric stood, albeit slowly, bones clicking and form quivering. Not out of fright, simply weakness. Soft, silver hair fell around his eyes as he regarded the ashen one. And now, even in his weakened, smaller state, he managed to be a few inches taller. 

"You won't remember me, ignorant minded noble that you are", the woman sighed, sheathing her sword and staff good naturedly. "But I," she emphasised with a step closer, "remember you."

Lothric blinked. Swallowed whole by his robes, he wished to vanish from her scrutinising gaze. "Pardon? Thou seems most..brazen", he hesitated, "to come hither, claiming such peculiar notions." 

Her gaze was unwavering, rooting him to the spot. Lothric shifted backwards somewhat, head tilting inquisitively nonetheless. "You art Ash, correct? Then..", a glance to his brother did not go unnoticed, "dost thou not wish to link the fire, to coerce me upon a mantle of Lords - one of which interests me none?" 

The ashen one laughed, as though in disbelief, and shook her head. "Not interested. I'm here on other matters. For now, you and your brother remain safe, until the next ash walks by. Or, until I let the flame die."

Lothric pondered silently, a thin finger playing with a strand of silver hair. He began to wonder what 'matters' this undead referred to.

The Ashen one gazed longingly at his form. He was frail, indeed, but all the better. "I was a maid of yours, once. Back when civilisations thrived and the undead curse nonsense was but an old tale." 

A spark of recognition lit his eyes, and the woman smiled. "You were horrid, if I do say so myself, Lord. Downright arrogant and rude."

Lothric appeared at a loss for words. He stood there like a lost child, unable to fathom that this woman of Ash was a remnant from his past. Thus meaning, she had failed in rekindling the flame long, long ago, perhaps even against him, as many do. 

"Didn't remember anything at first. Purging stone brought it right back. But don't you worry your pretty head about that.", her commoner accent reminded him that she existed in a far different world than he did, at one time. Now, nobility mattered very little. 

Lothric nodded, albeit uncertainly, and took a tentative, slow step towards the woman he knew so long ago. A woman he would often berate, look down upon. Such frivolities of nobility and wealth have long escaped him. "One can admit that thy past self had been conducted in a..less than amicable manner."

Her eyebrows appeared to raise in mock disbelief, her womanly figure stepping closer to his own. "Good. Lets negotiate.", her hands clapped together delightedly. 

"N-negotiate?"

"Goodness, with a stutter like that, i have to only wonder how you were born to be the last hope of your line. Still, its charming. Now..", the Ashen One ignored the various looks of shame, hurt and surprise that appeared to flicker upon his face. 

"I will ask you one question."

Lothric nodded, silver bangs softening his eyes. "Yes?" The innocence within his eyes gave the undead the answer she planned to ask. Still, she'd watch him squirm.

The Ashen one smirked. Slowly, her form stood inches away from his own, a hand touching his lithe chest. "Have you had a woman yet?" 

Lothric blanched, face sinking into his over sized robes. "W-what a preposterous question, and a completely rude one at that". The woman quirked a brow, hip cocked. From this angle, the adolescent - at least, she assumed he was no man like Lorian - appeared to fidget, his eyes uncertain of where to look at such close proximity. 

"This is our terms. I'll spare your brother the trouble, if you give me exactly what I want", she grinned.

Lothric swallowed. "What dost thou desire?" 

The ashen one smirked. 

"Obey."

\----------

"W-whence thou demanded 'obey', I had nary an idea what such meanings would entail--Ahh!"

The lithe form of the younger prince lay naked against the cool sheets, Lorian unconscious and still at the far side of the impressively massive bed, by Lothrics sweet request. Nay, not demand, request. Such a thing had the ashen one biting her lip.

"Are you questioning me, Lothric? I recall that you agreed to these terms, and the discussion that followed shortly after."

"Nng, yes, however--", Lothrics deathly pale face flushed a pink hue, the bulge within his confines straining to come out, to be touched directly. The undead tutted, sitting at his side as the prince lay flat, a golden hemmed piece of cloth his only modesty. 

"Remember, your princely titles mean nothing to me, here, now. I'll have my way with you.". With a tug, the woman's entire upper body clothes were off in one motion, bearing sizable breasts that could positively suffocate the small prince. 

Then, in a second motion, Lothrics cloth had been yanked to free his aching member, surprisingly sizable, and a mouth had latched around his length before he had any moment to study her womanly form. 

"I-ahh--", his hips jerked, unaccustomed to such a sensation, his face tinged a bright pink. The undead sucked the prince expertly, the mere sounds of his innocent little sighs forming a wetness between her thighs. 

Soon, however, she stopped. The Prince regarded her with wide eyed embarrassment, gaze darting from her face, to her chest, to the wall. The undead chuckled, standing before him.

"How beautifully pure you really are. Lorian certainly was not, if the stories are anything to go by", she eyed the slumbering giant of a man appreciatively, unabashedly, and slipped her trousers and undercloth down. 

Then, with a smirk, climbed atop the bed, hovering above his face. Lothric stared upwards in awe, eyes alight with curiosity. "W-what art thou--"

"Please me. Thats the deal.", the undead lowered into a squat, pink lips glistening with her arousal. 

"I..", lothric swallowed, the scent of her intimates sending a peculiar sensation through his body. "How?", he whispered weakly, uncertainly, eying the never before seen flesh between her legs. 

The ashen one smiled, gripping his silver hair for leverage. "You will use your mouth and tongue". Slowly, she lowered her plump ass upon his face, sticky lips smothering onto his face. She relished in the way he gasped. 

For a while, the Prince did nothing but breathe. Then, remembering his commands, he tentatively kissed the pink softness, from her clit to her hole. He had little idea why she jolted when his lips fell upon her clit, but he understood that the area must be particularly sensitive.

The ashen one squirmed, he was teasing her accidentally, and already wetness began to seep out of her. Gripping his silver locks, the woman above him gasped. "Tongue. Use it there."

Lothric flushed a deep red, nodding affirmatively before shyly allowing his tongue to rest against the little bud that the ashen one seemed to quiver at. Slowly, lothric circled the area with gentle strokes, afraid to do much more. 

His former maid sighed softly, back arching. Accidentally, his tongue slipped, glided directly across her aching clit. A wanton moan was torn from her throat, hips grinding into his face desperately. "Please me.", she breathed, rutting against his face. 

Lifting herself slightly, the Ashen one twisted her body around so she was facing the princes swollen dick and began to lightly stroke the length. Hearing him groan into her pussy had her sopping wet, juices coating his mouth entirely.

Lothric appeared to be understanding now, and began feverently suckling her clit, moaning into her as a warm wet sensation suddenly enveloped his cock, precum soaking down its length from frustration. He began to whine, quiver somewhat as a foreign feeling tightened within his abdomen. 

"Use your fingers. Fuck me with them like a good prince.", she moaned, leaning forward slightly to display her soaked lips and ass. Lothric gently touched his fingertips against her hole, uncertain of what to do or how to proceed. Cautiously, he slipped them inside, tongue circling her clit once more.

The woman moaned loudly, stroking his dick once more and relishing in his whimpers. "So good. I thrive in witnessing you below me, my prince. Head between my thighs as I've always wanted.", she sighed, insides ready to burst.

Then, as his fingers hit deeply, she keened and grinded against him. "Ah! There, yes, your tongue is filthy, isn't it? Only useful when pleasing me and nothing more." She began to bounce lightly, biting her lip.

Lothic felt entirely hot at her degrading comments, lapping up all she had to offer. He fingered her eagerly, suckling her clit until she was tossing her head backwards in bliss, juices filling his mouth and soaking his chin.

Lothric groaned filthily into her cum, feeling like he might just explode if he didn't finish too. 

Climbing off of him, she began to smirk at his flustered expression, trailing a finger up his aching cock. "P-please, it pains me, I beg of thee..", he whimpered, hips raising desperately.

She merely grinned, feigning contemplation. Lothric groaned, "please, I'll be good. I..I'm good.". With a smile, the Ashen one stood, baring her pussy. 

Lothrics eyes widened. She slowly kneeled on either side of his hips, pussy rubbing against the tip. "Mm, you have been good. Ill allow you to cum inside of me. Would you like that?"

Slowly, she sunk down his virgin cock, causing him to gasp and grip her thighs tightly. Grunting, his face squinted in evident strain, as though attempting to hold himself back.

She smiled. "Do it. Fill me, good little prince.", she groaned, bouncing gently upon his dick. In mere seconds, the Prince came with a whiny moan, cheeks tinged red as he gasped and writhed, filling her with his noble cum.

He lay there, tired, eyes closed peacefully. The Ashen one smiled, climbing off of his form and sitting to the side. 

Little did she know that Lorian was burning holes through her body, eyes fiercely alight. 

Glancing to his growling form, her eyes widened as her spell bounding him to the bed appeared to have worn off.

The ashen one could already feel herself grow wetter.


	4. Ornstein - f/m (touch starved)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An admirer of the Captain, one who abandoned her life as the chosen undead to become a darkmoon knight, has came to the realisation that the man can't even be touched without flinching.
> 
> Perhaps doing him a physical favour would cure that problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay sooo I was MEANT to release the Artorias/ciaran/Ornstein fic first but holy fuck the word count. I keep deleting parts because I want it to be RIGHT. So I apologise. 
> 
> So heres an ornstein x female one for now, which I quite enjoyed writing. My word count for the threesome is already 3000 words and the sex hasn't even happened yet LMAO, get ready for a lengthy one girls and boyyys.
> 
> Also it's probably obvious by now that I enjoy writing size kinks ;))) can't help myself, dark souls has a lot of big bois~

☆Ornstein☆  
\--------------------

She had always been there, lingered around his form when she thought he was unaware. A human, sworn blade of the darkmoon. And now, as he ventured to his quarters to retire, he stared disapprovingly as the woman stood, hands clasped and nervous, in the centre of his room.

She was to be chosen, at one time. An undead destined to retrieve the Lordvessel, and yet she did not. Utterly disbelieved in the cause, her desire to remain in Gwyndolins guard, to remain in the presence of the Dragonslayer, outweighing her predetermined destiny as the one worthy enough to succeed Gwyn.

Thus, with big eyes and a timid expression, her eyes depicted the very image that they always did, each time she visited - approval seeking. 

And he allowed her, somehow. Allowed her human presence to grace his own, talked to her for hours, even. Comically, she was half his height, dainty and profound in magic. 

But things took a turn one night. Small hands glided over his own amidst idle conversation and he..embarrassingly, he flinched at the mere touch, feather light and harmless to his bare hands.

And then it was his bare forearm being touched in a friendly manner as he spoke of hardships in his thousands of years of existence. The feeling was soft, foreign. 

It made him stutter, but she refused to pull away. He was beginning to think she did things to gain a reaction. For sometimes, her leg would nudge his own, head would rest against his shoulder when seated. Or, even, the hug she had simply thrown at him, arms wrapped around his neck as he sat and she stood and even then the height difference was apparent. 

And then there was the kiss. Soft and gentle, a small hand resting against his cheek as he could feel the heat radiating off of her form. He reacted so well, she thought, hands daring to bury within his red hair. The light scratch against his scalp had him shivering pleasantly.

Pulling back, the darkmoon smiled. "Are you..unaccustomed, to such touches?", she queried gently.

Ornstein nodded. Not that he was a virgin, but it had been decades. 

Thus, with clothing piling the floor, the Captain could only gasp and jolt as a teasing tongue circled the tip of his aching length, hips straining to remain steady as her small mouth engulfed him eagerly.

He hadn't been touched in so long. Hadnt even touched himself in months. So to feel the exquisite warmth of a pliant mouth enveloping him had him unraveling pleasantly. 

And she was indeed pliant. The darkmoon would never admit how much she had fantasised about the intimidating captain, hand between her legs most knights just from him smiling politely in her general direction. 

But this was something else. To have him appearing so touch starved and willing was a fantasy fulfilled, one she'd cum to for a long time. And now, with her bare ass in the air, the woman worshipped his cock with her tongue, relishing in his unrestrained gasps and low moans he emitted with clenched teeth.

"Are you..", he hesitated, "are you certain you do not mind?"

The speed in which she nodded her head eagerly had him raising his brows. Her wide eyes gazed up at him almost adoringly, his length splitting her mouth open as she hummed in happy agreement that she very much loved what she was doing. 

It sent a pool of arousal surging through his abdomen at such unwavering desire and he nodded, placing a large palm atop the humans head. He moaned as the small woman took him far in her throat with evident resistance due to the small cavity, but she eagerly worked with what she could, a hand moving to circle his base as she pumped slowly. 

Ornsteins body felt alight. He felt like he was back in his adolescence, quivering at every womanly touch, and he supposed it was a revisiting of such a thing after having little to no comfort in decades. 

The darkmoon was having the time of her life. Maybe she was obsessed, overly infatuated even, but it mattered little. Sloppily, her mouth opened up willingly, the lewd sounds of her sucking permeating the air along with the captains stifled groans. 

Her intimates began to feel heated, a nagging sensitivity that begged to be touched. With a small hand, she lowered it between her thighs to discover her seeping wetness, sticking to her thighs. Blushing, the woman delicately eased a finger into her hole with a moan, tongue buried into the captains balls as he writhed, finishing with a drawn out moan as her tongue glided from the base to the tip, enveloping the length whole.

With a pop, she lifted her head, lips a darker shade of pink. Ornstein watched as she stood, gripping his hand to guide him to the bed. As they stood, Ornstein had to physically crane his neck downwards at her. Then, as he allowed her to lay him upon the bed, he stopped. 

"I don't want to hurt you. You're a small human, it might--"

"Do you know how long I've wanted you inside of me?", she breathed, climbing atop his sturdy lap regardless. Baring her tiny hands upon his chest, she bit her lip at the flustered man below her. He was so chiseled and muscular, large and positively huge compared to her.

"I've wanted you for too long. My fingers aren't enough anymore. Let me please you.", she purred, and Ornstein could only flush as the sight of her pink hole descended upon his tip teasingly. Even the touch had him inhaling sharply, unaccustomed to such a feeling. 

She looked tiny above him, he thought. His hips jerked as she grinded her wet sex against his length, the muscle painfully hard and in need of desperate release after so long. After a few moments of relishing in the mans groans, teetering on whining, the darkmoon relented, juices covering her labia copiously. 

Hands planted against his abdomen, he watched in awe as the little woman descended slowly, gasping on immediate entrance as he breached merely two inches in, though he supposed it was the girth which had her face contorting in slight pain.

Ornstein bit his lip, his entire body feeling like it was approaching a sensory overload as his hands fisted at his side. Slowly, the darkmoon resumed her descent, her tiny hole beginning to appear plump as she engulfed his length in short bursts.

Just over half way, her mouth hung open in a high pitched moan, hands digging into his solid muscles. Ornstein felt her soft insides squeeze him relentlessly, and it took everything within him to not grab her and fuck her to completion. 

He wasn't a teenager. He was merely starved of such affection. He wouldn't.. he couldn't allow himself to descend to such a low level. So, with fisted palms, he groaned as the woman above him keened and sighed softly at the stretch, lowering herself until a resounding slap of her ass meeting his pelvis assured them that she had taken him whole. 

Her flushed expression appeared dazed, velvety insides hugging him tighter than any person he had ever been inside, if memory serves him right. Her lidded eyes regarded him softly, and after a moment of adjusting to the thick girth within her, the darkmoon raised her hips slowly, torturously to the tip, before dropping back down with a cry.

Ornstein gasped, shuddered as her body molded to the shape of him, eager to please. Her hands delicately trailed down his toned abdomen, over the many battle scars. Ornstein shivered at the softness of it, hips bucking up somewhat which had her whining.

"I've never..", she breathed shallowly, bouncing lightly upon his lap, "never had a man this big.", her entire face became a cherry as she met his intense gaze, the heat radiating off of her as her hips picked up the pace.

Ornstein moaned, pleasure wracking through his neglected body, reminding him that he should've never missed out on such an exquisite feeling. Her breathing was increasing now, bouncing upon his thick length with reckless abandon, crying out each time her form shifted and he struck the sensitive nerves within her directly.

"Oh, I've dreamed of this", she moaned wantonly, head lolling back. "P-please, fuck me however you desire.", she bit her lip, the slapping of skin echoing in the room as she impaled herself upon him repeatedly.

Ornsteins hands shook. He felt like he was going to explode in mere minutes, and something within him snapped. Gripping the humans petite form, he flipped them swiftly, gripping her thighs to pull her body against his with ease.

The movement made her gasp, whimpering in delight as he plunged his length into her, her thighs upon his shoulders as he pounded into her roughly, his insides quivering and begging for release.

The darkmoon cried out loudly, mouth agape as the knight above her pummeled into her sopping pussy, the lewd smacking of skin growing louder. She was speaking incoherently, face a cute pink. They hadn't been at it for long but Ornstein knew he was close. 

The least he could do was help her out, too. Thumb applying pressure onto her clit, he watched as her body shook and spasmed at the extra pleasure, nerve endings on fire as she begged for release, pleaded for him to fill her up.

In seconds, the woman was gushing, head thrown back in a high pitched moan. She squeezed him tightly, and his pace faltered. He was so sensitive, so respondent to the way her sex seemed to pulse and quiver.

With a moan, the Captain spilled his cum into the small human, abdomen quivering and tensing as the pent up load flooded her sopping hole, oozing out and around him, coating the length of her lips in the sticky substance.

His body jolted as he pulled out, sensitivity making him groan, and he could only watch as his cum began spilling out of her in slow waves. 

Glancing to her face, she was dazed once again, a giddy smile upon her face. He'd better recover soon, she thought, because she'd let him fuck her until that bout of touch deprivation vanished completely. 

All night, if they had to.

She adored him - she'd let him have his way.


	5. Ornstein/Ciaran/Artorias (threesome)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Festivities were a bore to Ornstein, yet an inevitable, wastful day that occurred every year, nonetheless. 
> 
> Despite his distaste for wallowing in indulgence, like most were currently doing, he was at least happy that Artorias had found a woman to please, even if it WAS within his office, preventing him from doing any work.
> 
> Returning to his room with nary a task to complete, Ornstein became thoroughly shocked at the display witnessed from his balcony - Artorias, now in his room, balcony door ajar, with a beautiful woman atop him.
> 
> The Captain can admit that his voyeurism was utterly perverse and unprofessional. In fact, leaving right now would be best, except...
> 
> Was that Ciaran watching him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how in the summary I said this would be a place for SMALL fics? Well..THIS SHIT IS 7700 WORDS LONG. 
> 
> and I love it. It took me a while at first, the slow burn and all, and when I hit 3500 words I was like aight lets wrap this mf up.
> 
> But then I listened to The Weeknd. And all his stupidly hot sex songs. And...
> 
> Went off on a tangent until 5am. My partner looking at me like "tf you still doing up?". Lmao you don't wanna know hun. 
> 
> Anyway I seriously, genuinely, completely hope you enjoy. This took TIME. But it was worth it. Fuck a small fic, treat yo self, am I right? 
> 
> ⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your support and kudos. It makes me so happy ❤ and PLEASE let the requests keep flowing! x

☆Ornstein/Ciaran/Artorias ;))☆  
\--------------------------------------------------

The time of year Ornstein truly despised was the season of festivities, a time where for one day, all duties were relieved (unless the entire of Anor Londo was attacked) and many took to consuming alcohol, dancing, or merely indulging in anothers body.

Professionalism ceased to exist during this day. Mere knights, with confidence, were permitted to approach God's, seeking comfort. Many God's agreed and could be seen leaving the feast early, human male or female in tow. 

Of course, being the Captain meant that many approached him, too. He never gave in, however. Though there was not much temptation to begin with. Granted, by tomorrow, his fellow knights would be ashamed or awkward for a while, just like last year. Such feelings were a waste of time. 

Thus, with permission from the Firstborn - an avid contender of such frivolities - the Dragonslayer departed, the chorus of defeated sighs or whispers dying behind him as the golden door shut with a slam, the corridors silent all but for the mingling voices that made their way through the door. 

The Firstborn often said he attracted almost as many women as he did, and yet not once did he think to exploit such a blessing. 

He'd retire to his quarters for now and finish up on the many reports he had piled on his desk. Taking the day to do this would mean being a step ahead, a position he very much enjoyed. 

It was a tad disheartening when neither Artorias nor Ciaran, the only two people aside from Gough he could speak to, were unattended and surely elsewhere. 

Ciaran could be training, he supposed. And Artorias was most probably tending to his wolf. Retiring to his office room, Ornstein paused as the sound of movement was heard on the other side. Indeed, the 4 knights shared close quarters with a shared living room, but this office was specifically his.

Face stern, the Captain intended to berate whoever dare defile his work place, for surely that is what they were doing, only to pause, listening. 

Artorias? He thought. Well, Ornstein supposed he could give the younger man a bit of privacy, even if it was within his work space. The barely-turned-man had hardly enough experience in general, so to hear him with a...Ornstein paused and listened once more. Ah, yes, to hear him with a woman was surely a delight. One he would admit to feeling proud of for the boy. 

He did have a soft spot for him, he'd admit that. Sighing, the Captain turned his back to the door, making his way to his quarters.

The sound of high pitched sighs and Artorias' hushed whispers could be heard, desperate whimpers of a female source following closely after. Ornstein rolled his eyes, he'd deal with Artorias in the morning.

Closing the door to his quarters, the man could only smile fondly at the utter silence. The area which the 4 knights shared was large, and luckily Ornsteins office was down a few hallways and away from his sense of hearing. 

Unfortunately, Ornstein had nary a sheet of paper to work on in here, for he had moved his entire pile of documents to the office, believing that an official room to work within would allow him to concentrate better. He could read, he supposed. Had some interesting books about trees and the like. 

Though, on second thought, maybe not. Ridding himself of his Golden armour, Ornstein adorned a simple form fitting, green tunic. Despite the many royal tunics he had received as gifts, adorned with fine, intricate golden embellishing, Ornstein found that the noble attire was uncomfortable, and rather pointless if one is simply sitting within his quarters. 

Though many hadn't even seen his face before. The royal family had, of course, for he worked closely with Gwyn, and therefore his children. His three knights had. He was a private man, and he liked to keep it that way. Thus, any article of clothing other than bed clothes, a comfortable tunic on days off (which would never happen if it were up to him) and his signature armour, was useless. 

Regardless, Ornstein did not wish for the night to drag if he truly had no work to do. So, with blood red hair cascading down his tunic, he stepped out into the frigid but very much welcome air, his room being adorned with a large, private balcony from the peering eyes of thr public - only the 4 knights could see each other. Facing the entirely opposite direction from the city, Ornstein stood against the wall overlooking a far drop into trees below. 

It was breathtaking, a serene display for the moments he truly craved tranquility. Ornsteins hair swayed lightly, long as it was, and he merely gazed across the horizon, to the gargantuan walls surrounding the mountains, to Goughs balcony - no torch, he was clearly out.

Eyes sweeping over Ciarans room, empty. He smiled, at least they were enjoying. And Artorias occupied his office so--

Ornstein gaped. Emerald eyes sweeping over the bedroom of Artorias, Ornstein could hardly believe his eyes. Could hardly..look away. Or think. He had known Artorias was occupying a woman, of course, but..

Ornstein squinted, features sharpening and honing in on the two. They were shadowed, thankfully, moonlight their only source of sight. And it wasn't that seeing his friend stark naked was particularly off putting. He had seen plenty worse in his time. Nor was seeing the side bosom of a short woman - human, maybe? - a shock to him. No, ones body was ones weapon, he believed, no matter what bits you possessed.

But...

Ornsteins gaze fell to the sky out of respect. He hadn't expected Artorias to sleep with a human. A maid, perhaps? No doubt he had enough of those fawning over his charm and undeniable, polite mannerisms. He was a man of utter humility, however. Humble to the very bone in his body.

It was best to leave the two to their privacy, nonetheless. Turning to leave, Ornsteins sharp gaze did one final glance in the direction of their open doored balcony. Perhaps he could now use his unattended office. Though, with utter astoundment, he stopped once more.

Nay, freezed would be the better word. Every cell in his body felt an unfamiliar surprise, for he was never one to ever be startled. In his peripheral vision, one that was sharpened the further he gazed in their direction, the sight of long, blonde hair graced his eyes.

There lay Artorias, door utterly ajar, upon his large, blue sheets, woman at least half his height atop his hips, grinding against him with golden locks spilling over her slim back, head tossed back in evident bliss. 

She was utterly naked, toned buttocks bouncing almost sensually against the strong thighs of Artorias as her long hair reflected the moonlight. 

It was..a sight, to be sure. A pleasant one that Ornstein wouldn't often admit to. His friends face was shrouded in darkness, the moons rays banished from that part of the bed. 

To reiterate, it wasn't the woman that had Ornsteins attention, despite the pleasing display.

No, it was the dagger. The one that lay on the balcony, glowing a golden hue in the light. And then, as though to confirm his growing suspicions...

A mask. Doll like and cyclops themed, sat neatly beside the weapon. Ornsteins face was a picture of bewilderment, confusion, and an uncharacteristic embarrassment at witnessing his female friend, his female colleague and knight, atop his OTHER friend, colleague and knight, pleasuring each other so romantically and yet Ornstein never saw the signs despite Goughs wise words that suggested toward such a thing. 

His mouth closed firmly, eyes averting to the sky, yet his feet remained rooted in place despite knowing the most respectful thing to do is leave the balcony altogether. And yet, to his shame, his forest-green eyes couldn't help but seek his two closest friends amidst their passion.

He..well, yes, he had thought of the assassin briefly, a few times over the years. Nothing unprofessional or degrading as a woman. No, never. He appreciated all that she did for the group, as a knight of gwyn and as a friend, a womanly confidant which often solved many of their idiotic problems in the past. 

And a few times, his mind had lingered, strayed out of curiosity. One had the tendency to do that when in close proximity with a group for a lengthened amount of time. During their travels in the past, sharing one tent. 

Regardless, it was all entirely platonic. And now that the world had changed and morphed into one of disarray, such thoughts ceased to exist.

Until now.

Gripping the wall with one hand, his body faced his bedroom, ready to leave, but his eyes stayed firmly rooted on their intertwined bodies.

And, to his horror (or delighted perversion), Artorias appeared to be taking control, lifting Ciarans petite, little body and placing her on her hands and knees before--

His face flamed like the shade of his hair, mouth agape once more. Artorias body was shadowed, save for his strong hands upon her hips and a sliver of chiseled chest, whilst Ciaran was fully bared, breasts bouncing with each thrust.

The cold, stoic expression of an assassin he was so accustomed to had now crumbled into one of bliss, eyes squeezed shut as her mouth hung open in silent moans, eyebrows drawn high and hair messily cascading down her shoulders. 

Ornsteins body became ablaze with a multitude of emotions. Shame. Embarrassment. Fascination.

Arousal. 

He stared on, his mind whirling with so many questions, so many scenarios. How? When? Did they--

Ornsteins eyes widened. Ciaran was biting her lip now, no doubt attempting to silence her moans, eyes squeezed shut as her mouth hung open once more. From this angle, it appeared Artorias had pushed her upper body down low, causing the woman to writhe and whine wantonly. 

Ornstein gripped the wall hard, emerald eyes smoldering into the display before him. He should leave. He should allow himself the innocent memories of Ciaran, not the ones of her sprawled across the bed, taken from behind in a way he thought she'd never allow. 

Ciaran was biting into the pillow below her chest now, set there to most likely prop up her much smaller frame, her mouth full of the fabric as her face glowed a pink hue. Ornsteins heart was beating fast now, palms clammy and..

He was hard.

He grimaced. He was ashamed. So very perverted to be spying on his friends like this, especially Ciaran, the only woman of the group, the one who fought to prove that she was as worthy as her team of men. 

No, this could not continue, this must stop--

And she was looking at him. 

Ornsteins entire body must've been aflame, surely, for his entire being became so utterly hot. Baby blue eyes were wide, staring across the vast expanse that separated them and into his opposing green eyes. She shifted, perhaps to cover herself modestly, but Artorias had nary a clue what was happening.

So, he continued. Fucked her harder, a hand gripping her messy locks and tugging her back. Ciarans face was bright red, attempting to appear composed, attempting to speak, by the looks of it, only for a long, drawn out moan to escape her mouth at Artorias actions, one which faintly reached Ornsteins ears. 

Her eyes began to appear half lidded, rolling back at certain times. Her gaze remained rooted onto her Captain who could only stare back darkly, a gush of thrill and arousal causing her insides to become alight. 

Soon, and with a look of shock from Ciaran, her human sized body - much smaller than Artorias - was gripped like a doll and pulled into the darkness, a faint yelp resounding across to his balcony. 

Then, sheepishly, Artorias peered out at Ornstein, stark naked and hard, with a large smile and an evident laugh that Ornstein could not hear. And, almost completely madly, he waved. Ornsteins jaw must have unhinged at this point, for he gaped once more, eyes roaming the tall, muscular length of Artorias form for a brief moment before he turned on his heel and returned to his bedroom with a slam of the balcony door, face a crimson shade and hands shaking lightly. 

What..had just happened? Ornstein groaned, logic returning once more as his groin pulsed painfully with the lack of attention it received. 

He grimaced. How could he face them now?

\----------------

Ornstein did not relieve himself like any sane man would do. No, he was far too ashamed. This level of perversion could be taken to Gwyn himself. He could lose his position as captain for sexual, non consented voyeurism towards his fellow colleagues.

That would be bad, so very bad for his reputation, his friendship, all that he had worked for--

A knock at the door made his heart leap. His stomach sunk, guilt filling him like led. With a composed breath, he exhaled. "Come". 

Slowly, the door opened, revealing the form of Artorias, half dressed and a mess, raking a hand through his hair nervously. "Captain, I came to apologise. What you saw, it..", he sighed dramatically, both hands gripping his black hair, "--and then I WAVED out of nervous habit..", he groaned. 

Ornstein averted his gaze to the desk. It would be comical had he not been sleeping with his female colleague. Nodding stiffly, the Captain busied himself with tidying his already immaculate desk space. "At ease, Artorias. I fully understand that a day such as today may implore one to act unprofessionally." 

His expression became one of guilt. "Ciaran, is she..", he hesitated, wiping the imaginary specs of dust off of his form, "is she alright? Or am I viewed as..as..", he cut himself off, composing himself once more with a quiet, slow inhale.

Then, finally, green eyes met dark blue. "Am I regarded as a disgusting pervert, Artorias? Be honest, please. I..I am aware that my actions were not at all professional.", his stutter made Artorias raise his eyebrows. Guilt really was eating this man alive.

Artorias chuckled, much to Ornsteins chagrin. A swift glare sent Artorias raising his arms defensively. "No, Captain, she does not think of you in that regard. In fact...", the knights tall frame moved to kneel beside him, a friendly action he often did when Ornstein worried himself sick. "I came to apologise. If you're reaction is to be positive then, I came to ask you that during this time of festivities...", he came to a slow halt, eyebrows raising as a hint. 

Ornstein blinked. Then, a look of absurdity crossed his strong expression. "Artorias, no. Absolutely not. That would be m-most unprofessional, most violating to ones trust, if I were to..to..", 

"With all due respect, Captain, I personally requested your company.", came the voice of Ciaran, eyes averted uncharacteristically to the floor in shyness. 

Ornstein gazed at her briefly, though not for long. Eyes closing, his mind briefly thought of the possibility, but he quickly nipped such a thought in the bud. "That will not happen. Return to your rooms, that's an order.", his voice took on one of feigned authority, despite his insides quivering with nervousness. 

Artorias smiled, a flick of his lips which had Ornsteins insides jolting. "Festivities declare that all duties, unless during an emergency, are relinquished for tonight. Therefore," he stood, walking to the assassin with oozed confidence, "you have no right to order us, im afraid." 

Ornstein faltered somewhat in his stern position, fierce eyes meeting the gaze of amused, royal blue. "Be that as it may, repercussions for disobedience, even on a day such as today, can be postponed for tomorrow."

Artorias sighed, pursing his lips almost childishly. Ciaran was shyly avoiding the captains gaze, eyes firmly rooted on Artorias' person, who at this moment wrapped a very much unwanted arm around the Captains stiff shoulders, smile upon his face. "You wouldn't do that to your friend, would you?"

Ornstein huffed, moving to push the mans arm off. "Stop this, Artorias. I am..I am most uncomfortable.", Ornstein groaned, standing swiftly from his chair to create a sizable distance. Briefly, his eyes fell to the assassin, and just as quickly his eyes fell to the desk.

"I didn't mean to..", he hesitated, arms folding as a means to at least make himself feel more in control, "to witness such an event. And I apologise for my actions. Now, if you'll excuse me.", the Captain moved, walking towards the exit of his room with swift strides.

Then, as his hand moved to grip the handle, he froze. 

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?", Artorias hummed, smirk evident in his voice. "In fact, I think you quite liked the display of our Assassin losing the composure she works so hard to maintain." 

Ciaran fidgeted, hand gripping her arm in a display of self consciousness. "Artorias..", her voice was weak, quiet, much unlike the usual strong image she upholded. Her pale cheeks were tinged pink as her eyes fought to meet the Captain, who stood a mere few inches away from her form. Alas, she couldnt, and sought the nearby wall instead. 

"And as I recall, you certainly enjoyed it too, Ciaran.", The wolf knight grinned, voice dropping an octave. The knight moved to stand to the opposite side of Ciaran, staring down at her with amusement. "I doubt you saw, Captain, but from my position I certainly saw you."

Ornstein faltered, turning to face him with widened eyes. Artorias was watching him the entire time? A warmth spread throughout the captains body.

"In fact, I told our little assassin of your watchful gaze. I told her that her body was on full display to our Captain, your full attention solely on her. And do you know what she did?", the wolf knight implored seductively, dark blue eyes smoldering into emerald green. 

Ciaran stood between the two towering men, merely the height of their lower chest. She could hardly believe what Artorias was saying. 

Artorias grinned, leaning over the small woman. "I'll tell you watch she did. She released the sweetest sounds, Captain. So soft and pleading at the knowledge of your undivided attention."

Ciarans breath hitched. Ornsteins face remained surprisingly neutral, aside from the scarlet hue crossing his high cheekbones. He felt at a loss of words. What was one to say to such a discovery? Glancing down at Ciaran, his expression revealed uncertainty, a smoldering heat behind his eyes nonetheless at hearing such an admittance.

He didn't have the will to say no. Didn't have the desire to. 

Which brings him to the current present, out of his reoccurring memory of how such a thing could come to be, sat almost obediently on the edge of his bed as Ciaran squirmed with delight, the wolf knights lips attached to her small nipples, a hand teasing her intimates through her trousers. Ornstein felt entirely out of place, though with enough coaxing from his friend, he relented.

"Mm, our assassin likes to act composed, and rightly so. But get her alone and she does so enjoy crumbling, I assure you.", Artorias hummed, hands tugging down her underclothes gently, revealing her nude form for both men to see.

Ciaran blushed, legs spreading slowly. Artorias pushed her legs apart further, easing down her short body until his handsomely grinning face was nestled between her thighs. Then, with a gentle kiss to her centre, he began lavishing her soft skin with licks, hands firmly resting against her thighs.

Ciarans head lolled back, eyes appearing dazed. Ornstein could understand as much. She was currently under the attention of two men, whom she was very close with, and under the ministrations of the wolf knights tongue, having his own unwavering gaze piercing into her. 

It made sense that she appeared so..delightfully aroused. So uncharacteristically submissive and needy. Regardless, the man remained rigid.

"Come here.", Artorias demanded lightly with a smile. Ornstein froze, but stood nonetheless. Kneeling beside his friend, Artorias indicated to the intimate flesh between ciarans legs. Ornstein stared. The lips of her labia were glistening, and glancing up, Ciaran was staring down at him with wide, excited eyes.

Sparing another glance to the knight, who gave a nod, Ornstein slowly lifted a hand. The sound Ciaran made at having his finger circle her clit made him jolt, but otherwise pleased. He was experienced with women, though not for a handful of years since the world began to destroy itself. 

Focusing on her small slit, his finger glided over the hole gently, dipping a finger in experimentally before plunging the entire length in. Ciaran sighed softly, and Ornstein gazed up at her longingly, only to blink at the sight of a naked Artorias, cock in the assassins face. 

The woman greedily accepted it, small mouth wrapping around the appendage and Ornstein flushed, eyes immediately glancing to the apex of Ciarans thighs, working a second finger with ease as Artorias thrusted his hips against her mouth gently. 

Artorias gripped her blonde hair gently, tugging it in the way he knew she liked, pushing his length into her waiting mouth. The sloppiness of it all reached even the Captain, who was beginning to feel painfully hard in his confines. 

Gripping the assassins thigh, he wrenched it apart with one hand to begin easing his fingers in and out of her, watching as her pink hole molded to the shape of his fingers. Ciaran moaned around the cock in her mouth, having her Captain between her legs was a deep, dark dream come true. And Artorias knew that. 

The wolf knight bit his lip at the sight, Ornstein appeared so large between the small woman's thighs. Is that what he looked like between Ciarans legs too? It came at no surprise that she'd enjoy it so much, then, for even he was beginning to feel a peculiar excitement at the mans large form towering over her.

Ciaran began to lick eagerly around the length in her mouth, mind becoming blank as the feeling of a skilled tongue circled her clit, fingers still pumping leisurely within her. The assassin writhed, eagerly lifted her hips for more.

Ornstein acquiesced. Sinking his mouth around the entire sensitive nub, he gently suckled on it, fingers curling lightly within her tight passage. The loud moan she gave had Artorias and Ornstein gazing at her longingly, eyes alight with lust. 

Ciaran was beginning to falter in pleasing Artorias, her mouth slowing to a stop mindlessly as she indulged in the explosive bliss that erupted at having those soft lips around her clit. 

With a pop, Artorias retrieved his aching member from her mouth, eying the red headed man who was passionate in pleasing Ciaran, soft lips teasing her clit with gentle kisses as his fingers worked there way into her deeper.

"Im starting to think ill have to up my game." Artorias chuckled, kneeling beside a clothed Ornstein who slowed to a stop at such proximity. Slowly, eyes not leaving his Captain, the wolf knight licked a delicate stripe up Ciarans glistening lips, dark eyes smouldering into emerald eyes. 

Ornstein felt a peculiar pang of arousal. Instincts taking control, he leaned in slowly, watching intently as Artorias circled her clit with his tongue, before he slipped his own tongue between her labia, down to her pleading hole.

Artorias appeared startled, a redness peppering his cheeks, before he eagerly suckled the engorged nub, almost competitively. Ornstein thrusted his tongue into the woman's weeping entrance, the two knights faces pushed together, though neither cared.

Glorious, wanton pleads spilled from Ciarans mouth at the undivided attention she was receiving. Her mind felt clouded, how was she to remain collected when the two most attractive men were between her thighs? 

The assassin gasped as two opposing hands from either man wrenched each of her legs open roughly, creating further space to work as a team, and Ciaran truly thought she'd melt then and there at the fierce devotion they set upon pleasing her desperate intimates. 

Her cheeks were tinged red, hips bucking mindlessly as the two tongues upon her nethers teased her clitoris and hole in alternating swipes, circling their section slowly, avoiding the more desperate places that she longed for them to touch. 

A long finger prodding her entrance is what made the stream of nonsensical pleads tumble from her throat. Hand wrenching into soft, black hair, Ciaran pressed Artorias face towards her aching clit, grinding as much as she could for the extra friction.

Artorias groaned, eagerly buying his face into her bundle of nerves. His cock was straining, precum leaking down the length. Ornstein continued to circle her entrance with a finger, splitting her lips apart to slide his hot tongue within once more.

A finger slipping knuckle deep into Ciaran had her whining desperately, hand daring to hover above her captains head. Glancing down with half lidded eyes, she bit her lip to stifle a whimper at the intense, green eyes staring up at her, daring her. His curling finger is what had her throwing caution to the wind as she gripped the bold, red mane of his, tugging him desperately against her pussy.

Ornstein felt a flash of arousal sink into his gut, length positively straining to be released. The desire he felt for ciaran and, in a most foreign way, Artorias, was completely over whelming. Though he threw the latter down to mere curiosity.

Ornstein could feel her gushing now, lubrication coating her inner thighs, slipping between the toned and womanly globes of her cheeks. 

Slowly, Ornstein trailed his tongue to the pinnacle of her sex, the sensitive bud which had her crying out. Finger curling within her, he lavished it gently, gliding over it smoothly and fluidy all the while listening to her gasp.

Artorias was in a mind of his own, much like the Captain, merely reacting upon what movements allowed Ciaran to get louder. As his lithe tongue glided from the very top of her lips and back up to her clit, he jolted, eyes wide as a spike of excitement shot down his centre. 

Ornstein appeared the same, green eyes wide and bewildered. The two knights tongues had overlapped, swirling around one another as they licked either side of her pulsing clit. Ornstein appeared to ready himself to move, though stopped upon the two hands that had grabbed his own hair, and Artorias', pushing their faces into her pussy as she cried out at the over stimulation of two tongues. 

Ornstein flushed crimson. He had never done something like this before and yet..he was oddly unconcerned about swirling his slick tongue around Artorias'. If anything, his cock hardened beyond belief at such an action, confusion and excitement spiraling in his chest. 

The wolf knight groaned as his tongue now purposefully glided over his Captains, precum spilling from his cock in need of relief, the odd turn of events merely heightening his state of desperation. 

As the two tongues interlocked in a state of competition, the soft appendages massaged each nerve ending in the woman's poor clit. Artorias could hear her crying out like never before, the hand wrenched in his hair tugging painfully. She was close, and yet his thoughts remained curiously upon his Captain at the moment.

Ornstein felt his entire body heat up at the way his tongue so eagerly intertwined with his friends - but he put it down to mere rivalry to see who could please Ciaran the most. The mans body was so close, and naked at that, that his eyes burned to gaze between his sturdy thighs.

An utterly lewd display of oozing lubrication and saliva coated both their mouths, jaws unhinged enough to lick and suck ferociously at Ciarans abused flesh. The assassin could hardly believe her eyes, hand shyly covering the filthiness of her moans as she gazed down the slope of her peaked nipples, down her quivering abdomen and to the strong, devastatingly handsome men fighting dominantly with their skillful tongues, overlapping each other sinfully and yet not appearing to want to stop.

Ciaran felt her insides explode with arousal and need, these two would he the death of her. From her point of view, the two towering males looked like God's, jaws angled perfectly, brows furrowed in concentration, the stark contrast of red hair and black hair, green eyes and blue eyes. It was a dream come true, she thought, grinding her hips roughly against them, thighs spasming in reaction to her impending orgasam.

And then it all stopped. Teetering on the edge of euphoria, Artorias pulled away with a smirk, gripping the Captains hair lightly to tug the man away. Indicating upwards, the two gazed lustfully at the flushed complexion of Ciaran, breasts rising and falling rapidly as tears threatened to litter her eye lashes.

Her eyes were wild, begging, drool lightly tracing the edges of her mouth from having it hung open in pleasure for so long. Her thighs were quivering madly in their grip, her sopping hole twitching, pulsing, awaiting something to fill it and fuck it. 

Her breaths were high pitched and desperate, head lolling back in utter despair of being so violently torn from her orgasm. Ornsteins eyes were positively smouldering like a forest fire, nothing would douse that flame now, and Artorias knew that. With a smirk, he stood, climbing to Ciarans side. 

"Mm, look at her, Captain. So desperate.", Artorias chuckled lightly, circling her nipple with his fingertip. Gripping the small woman by the waist, he lifted her with ease, gaze directed at Ornstein. "Sit upon the bed. Ciarans often amused me with this fantasy for a while."

Cocking a brow, the silent man sat upon the bed slowly, leaning back in anticipation. What he did not expect, however, was for Artorias to roughly toss her back onto the bed upon hands and knees, her beautiful face directed towards him.

And yet the assassin was so..obedient, he thought. So pliant and willing to submit. It came as a shock to him. Though by now it was entirely evident that these two had experimented with one another enough to know each others likes and dislikes. 

The huge body of Artorias settled behind her, large hands upon her hips as his muscles rippled at each tense of his hands upon her soft form. Then, with a most sinful noise only his wildest dreams would produce, Ciarans mouth hung open as Artorias sunk into her soaked heat, inch by inch, relishing in her tightness.

The high pitched, uncharacteristic keen of her voice had ornsteins hands tensing. His cock ached painfully, and to see the petite assassin getting impaled by Artorias notably large length was maddening. 

"Youve got what you've always desired, Ciaran", Artorias groaned, the slapping of skin resonating throughout the room with whines following closely behind. "Our Captain, the man we all so obediently look up to, is watching you.", he growled lowly, hips grinding into her own deeply, frustratingly.

Ciarans pitch increased at Artorias words, and it only egged him on. He could feel the humiliation rolling off of her form, and the wetness that comes with it. She adored this and he knew it. 

Ciaran hadn't felt so completely consumed in unbearable arousal before. Her entire body was on fire, pussy pulsating wildly for more as her mind fought to keep up. She felt as though she had transcended mere physical pleasure, this was something far more extreme.

And she was loud. That much she knew. Glancing up with glassy eyes at the man of her darkest fantasies, other than Artorias, Ciarans eyes bulged at the evident, straining length outlined by his trousers, mouth wateringly long and thick. Biting her lip, her cheeks were aflame as the Captain regarded her with one of those stoic, stern eyed expressions he often did.

And he had always been undoubtedly attractive. But when such an expression was used in this capacity, chiseled jaw and upturned nose glaring down at her, it had her heart hammering wildly. 

He was just staring. Unwavering and solid in his gaze, eyes unabashedly roaming the length of her small body, until finally his burning emeralds burned into her pleading eyes firmly. 

She felt like she would come undone just from his scrutinizing, powerful stare. It was perhaps unprofessional, but the Captain had been an avid contender of her fantasies, in the privacy of her room, hand between her legs. And Artorias knew. He riled her up often amidst their sessions of fucking, whispering filth into her ear about getting pounded by them both.

Such comments had her wailing, cumming so hard her knees would buckle. And now it was finally happening. 

Artorias witnessed the entire ordeal - Ornstein and Ciarans lustful glances towards each other as he fucked her deeply, hand upon her round cheeks. "How does she look, Captain?" Artorias almost sneered, for he knew how gorgeous the assassin was surely to look. Though the response was unexpected.

"Utterly ravaged.", the lion knight growled, the deep baritone of his voice seemingly reverberating from his chest. The man even palmed his confined, oozing cock through his clothes, teeth gritted menacingly. "How does she feel?" He threw back without thought, watching as the woman's breath hitched at his sudden brazen attitude.

Artorias groaned lowly, hips slapping against her ass a lot rougher now. "Tight.", he exhaled, spreading the woman's cheeks lewdly and grinning handsomely at her yelp. "Mm, she loves that she has an audience. So wet", he emphasised with a harsh thrust, moaning softly at her cry of pleasure. 

Ciaran could hardly believe they were talking about her as though she wasn't even in the room. The utter degradation of the act had her thrusting her ass back into his thrusts, uncaring if she appeared desperate, whorish. 

And then his full attention was back on her, head tilted almost sardonically as his hands flexed with attempted restraint. "Do you like me watching you, Ciaran? Is this truly an indulged fantasy?", the light quirk of his lips had her blushing, teeth gritting to hold back the cries of bliss threatening to spill. 

Her hands bunched up the blankets beneath her in fists, head lowering towards the bed as her hair shrouded her face in humiliation. "I..", she gasped, practically spasming as Artorias chose now of all times to tease her clit with his fingers.

With a sharp inhale, attempting to at least remain an ounce of composure, she nodded weakly, eyes burning into the blanket. "Y-yes, Captain, I.. I often relieve myself t-to the thought of--", she moaned, squeezing the blanket tightly as her hips grinded backwards into Artorias now teasing cock, "--you", she breathed. 

"Look at your Captain when he is speaking to you.", Artorias growled into her ear, gripping a handful of blonde locks and tugging her body upwards. Her back bowed seductively, breasts spilling forward in an arch as her back almost met Artorias chest. 

And he didn't relent in his pace. He continually fucked her, groaning at the sight of her ass bouncing against his hips enticingly. Ciaran gasped, delicate neck bared as her hair was grasped in the strong fist of the wolf knight. The moan of approval that left her was filthy, and she resorted to chewing her lip to prevent any further sounds.

Ornsteins eyes were dark, gazing at her like she was an enemy ready to destroy. It made her quiver, tighten, as she had no way of avoiding him now with her head forcefully facing his direction. "I..I want you.", her voice cracked, a second later her face being forced into the bedding by Artorias as he pummeled into her with no remorse.

Ciaran choked on a gasp, arms buckling as her face hit the sheets, cries and wails dying into the fabric as her ass remained high in the air like a wanton whore, she thought, legs wide and desperate. 

"Oh, God! I'm close!", she whined, eyes shut tightly as Artorias reached a hand down to rub at her clit. Ciaran was kicking at this point, her sensitivity having her muscles jolt abruptly. Her expression was utterly dazed, drool openly pooling from her mouth now and onto the soft sheets as she keened, pleaded to finish, to finally burst--

The abrupt emptiness made her falter, face contorting childishly into one of betrayal and frustration. This was the second ruined orgasm. Her fists bunched in the sheets angrily, tears littering her eyelashes. 

"That was cruel.", the Captain chuckled darkly, watching the woman writhe and huff in complete aggravation, weakly rolling onto her back as stray tears stained her cheeks. 

Artorias grinned maliciously, an expression Ornstein can never recall seeing before. With a gentle thumb, he swiped the stray tears littering her cheeks, hands cupping her face as she panted heavily, squirmed like a child to rid herself of his loving hands vengefully. 

"Please", she croaked, labia puffy and red. Her head lolled back against the bed, hair upon Ornsteins lap, though she was too delirious to notice. "I need it. I..I need--"

Artorias scoffed. "You don't need anything, you demanding little woman. Though, I suppose i will take pity.", he smirked darkly. Ciaran had a tendency to act up like this, and she so loved being forced back into her place. 

Shakily, she got onto her knees, facing Artorias directly. Her face depicted obedience and desperation as she stared up at his form with big eyes. Artorias sighed, smiling, and then pulled her forward with such swiftness she fell onto her hands and knees once more, ass and sopping hole facing her Captain.

Ciaran felt the blood drain from her body. This was so indecent, so dirty. He could see everything, he--

Ciaran wiggled weakly, seeking permission to act modestly, though none was granted. Artorias moved to kneel beside her plump backside, two fingers spreading her puffy sex with ease, lubrication oozing out of her messily. "Look at how wet her cunt has become.", Artorias groaned, slapping it gently and earning himself a yelp in the process. 

Ornstein burned holes through her weeping pussy, unable to sit back and watch anymore as he recklessly tugged down his trousers, hard cock springing out in relief. "Do you want me to fuck you?" Ornstein growled, shifting to her ass as his tongue roughly buried itself into her abused pinkness. 

Ciaran breathed a sigh of pleasure, nodding swiftly. "Y-yes, Captain. Please, fuck me.", she whispered, glancing back at the man with lip between her teeth. 

Her breath hitched as he gripped his tunic and lifted it above his head, revealing a toned abdomen and hard, glorious muscle that protruded from both his arms and his thick thighs. Both him and Artorias were simply God like. 

Rough hands upon her waist had her squeaking, her body getting manhandled and flipped onto her back, thighs dragged upwards until her ass landed on his knees. His face was ferocious and proud, body swallowing her whole as she flushed under his scrutiny. 

A second pair of hands had her gasping, Artorias spreading her pussy apart as he lay to the side of both their hips, face embarrassingly close to their intimates. "Fuck her, Captain. The feeling is like none other, i assure you." 

Ornstein groaned at the sight, thick, veiny cock rubbing the length of her sex teasingly. Slowly, his thickness entered her swollen folds, stretching her to his shape in a way she was most unaccustomed to, but relished all the same. 

He sunk in with ease, resistance near to none as the woman below him sighed delightedly at the feeling of her captains rigid length stroking her walls deliciously.  
The red head gripped her thighs in strong hands, wrenching her thighs apart and upwards obscenly.

Ciaran whined, velvety, stretched hole on full display to the two men. Artorias languidly stroked his length and Ornstein all but groaned at the sight of her plump lips eating up his length greedily. 

With a snap of his hips, he rutted into her deeply, all self preserved professionalism and uncertainty vanishing and making way for the urge to please the woman below him. 

He edged her ruthlessly, just as Artorias had, fucking her in long strokes, Artorias' tongue circling her clit until she was a writhing, pleading mess, only to be torn from her spectacular high once more.

Ornstein growled at her, the sight of fresh tears streaking her cheeks igniting a sort of primal instinct within him to simply grind as deeply as possible within her.

Ciaran couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take the never ending edging these two seemed to revel in. With a shaky huff, the assassin grabbed her Captain roughly by the back of the neck, forcing his frame down to passionately interlock lips with his own.

The act spurred him on, had him placing a hand below her ass to force her hips up into his own, hard length fucking into the sweetest spot she had ever felt. Ciaran moaned into his mouth, hands grabbing at his hair desperately, seeking a roughness that she knew would make her explode instantly.

And it certainly allowed the more dominant aspects of the Captain to emerge. With a vicious hiss of clenched teeth, Ornstein pinned the woman's arms down with rigid control and began to piston into her mercilessly, emerald eyes alight and terrifying, staring into her own light blue, glistening orbs as she pleaded, babbled, begged for release. 

And she had it. With Artorias' wet fingers upon her clit and Ornsteins furious pace, his cock splitting her so well she felt the breath getting knocked out of her, Ciaran teetered on screaming, hips bucking roughly at the over stimulation of it all as her form shook, convulsed, and finally gushed copious amounts of edged cum upon Ornsteins form, high pitched gasps and incoherent sentences spilling from the usually composed woman in a flurry. 

Artorias' eyes were as wild as his Captains, cock straining with need as he stroked his length faster, more eagerly, as Ornstein held her thrashing body down with his own, whispering hoarse filth into her ear as he pounded away.

The squelch of her insides had him groaning, girthy length soaked in her juices. And, gazing below at her, Ciarans eyes were dazed, staring up at him in a trance-like euphoria, tears and saliva lathering her face in the desperation of it all. 

Her head lolled back as though boneless, the fight in her arms relenting, submitting, as the ministrations of both men had her dissolving into a mindless, cock drunk mess.

With a rampant pace that had Ciaran shaking and wailing with hyper sensitivity, Ornsteins firm grip now dug into her hips as he his end was nearing. With a swift retract of his hips - he didn't want to overstep her boundaries - Ornstein moved to cum politely into his palm, only for strong hands to grip his hips and force him in balls deep.

Ornstein shuddered, gasped, as Artorias held onto him with a wicked grin, and Ornstein didn't know what compelled him to do this, but their lips were suddenly locked in a passionate battle of dominance, mouths moving in almost a desperate, feverent synchrony as Ornstein felt himself tense, jerk, and empty himself within the small woman with a deep, low moan into his friends mouth. 

Ciaran sighed pleasantly at the soothing liquid, insides pulsating lightly as the two knights appeared to be lost in themselves, before pulling apart with gasps, eyes wild and confused as they gazed at each other hungrily. 

Ornstein gently retrieved himself from Ciaran, offering a soft smile to which she returned. 

Settling herself onto shaky, buckling hands and knees, Ciaran gazed back at Artorias expectantly, her sloppy hole quivering as remnants of cum oozed from her messily. Artorias groaned. "Are you sure? You must be tired--"

"Cum inside me.", Ciaran demanded with finality, persistent that he, too, finished. With a grin, the knight slipped into her slippery warmth, the captains cum coating his cock deliciously, almost forbiddenly, as he pummeled into the woman with reckless abandon, hips slapping against her reddening ass passionately, lustfully.

Ciaran bit into the fabric of the sheets, moaning and pleading with squeezed eyes as her second peak was nearing. With a shuddering, mind numbing cry, her orgasm overtook every logical sense in her mind, elbows buckling weakly as her face planted firmly into the bed once more.

But she knew the wolf knight loved this position the most. So with a wiggling, enticing bounce to her ass against his hips, Artorias felt the wholesome satisfaction, albeit tiredly, as Artorias groaned loudly, hoarsely, fucking her like a starved man, cock pulsating within her until finally, ropes of the hot liquid flowed through her for a second time, filling her until it spilled out around him.

Retrieving himself is when Ciaran allowed herself to genuinely collapse in exhaustion, much to the amusement of the two knights.

Turning over onto her stomach, she reached out softly to to the knights, who happily laid either side of her, squishing her with their muscled forms. 

"Thank you, Ciaran. I hope I was not too harsh on you.", Ornstein chuckled, allowing her rest upon his outstretched arm as Artorias curled up behind her. 

With a weak, amused glare, Ciaran leaned against him tiredly. "Not at all."

They remained silent, comfortably, eyes drooping into a resting slumber, until the wolf knight ruined it all.

"And look at how much our friendship has strengthened", he cooed far too lovingly for both Ornstein and Ciaran, who groaned and pushed his over bearing, huggable body away. 

"Do shut up", ciaran muttered, her usual self flourishing once more. The Captain smiled nonetheless.

"Our form on the battlefield is going to benefit, I assure you. We've connected so much - we're synchronised!", Artorias sighed delightedly, long arm reaching across Ciaran and towards his captain with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "We should do this again, huh, Captain?"

Ornstein rolled his eyes, nudging the mans arm away with a scoff. "Indeed. Though I better not catch you two in my office again. Next time, I WILL punish you both for the utter insubordination and lack of conduct befit of those with such high positions."

Artorias and Ciaran smiled sheepishly, meek apologies whispered within the now dark room. Ornstein could only smile. For once, perhaps the wolf knight was right - the festivities of tonight were very much enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, kinda hot, right? Long, maaaaybe a bit overwritten, but hot. 
> 
> I swear I'll try not to take up so much time on the next apparently 'small fic' 
> 
> But still, thank you again ❤


	6. Creighton - f/m

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astraea was a maid, and he a knight of mirrah. Still, such titles meant little when those who feel ostracised grow together in a relationship set on damning those around them.
> 
> All it takes is a bright mind and a fire. And Astraea has both.
> 
> They'll watch the town burn together.
> 
> (Also Astraea is a hot thiccy and creighton fucks her in the aftermath)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really different to any creighton shit I've written. This is like..actually amongst civilisations. 
> 
> And creighton is in love, so..idk if thats OOC, but I liked it. 
> 
> So in this, its all a sick show of revenge, and as you can see, Astraea is fucking crazy too. Their both crazy WITH a happy ending! 
> 
> I just needed my boi to have a murderer girl in his life 🥺 
> 
> Hope u enjoy x
> 
> Contains: CHEATING, DUBIOUS CONSENT WITH OBJECT INSERTION, BLOOOOOOD, PEOPLE BURNING.
> 
> and overall dominance

☆Creighton☆  
\----------------------

They lived surreptitiously, soft lips gliding passionately over one another only in the darkness, when the shadows allowed hushed whispers and furtive intertwining of bodies.

Sturdy, calloused hands grabbed at the supple flesh of womanly hips, dress shrouding the mans sly grip as the proud image of a stag decorating a knights tabard was on full display of his chanmailed, broad chest, though little pride was directed at such a sigil.

His helmet was thrown carelessly to the floor, icy eyes staring into the woman in his arms, her back pressed roughly up against the garrison wall, in a secluded, far off corner only the maids attended to. 

Her dress was tugged upwards in evident impatience to allow him entrance to her sopping core, always so ready and pliant for him, not a moment to spare on frivolous foreplay. 

Knights littered the nearby halls, talking fondly amongst each other as they made their way to the local alehouses. A firm hand slapped over the woman's moaning mouth roughly, sealing the treacherous sounds from the other men who had nary an idea that the two were fucking in the shadowed corner.

Soon, his hand dropped, and the woman glared, exerting a shaky breath. "We shouldn't be doing this. He's only down the hall.", she hissed, arms wrapping around Creightons broad form. 

His muscles rippled beneath her palms, holding her petite body in place with his own as his lips quirked into that devilish smirk he often adorned when he knew he was doing something forbidden.

Creighton huffed a chuckle, a picture of feigned innocence decorating his playful expression. "Who?", his deep, accented voice queried far too irritably, she thought. 

The woman, a maid, whined at the depth of his sudden thrust, aimed to purposely rile her up, daring her to tell him that she didn't want this, when they both knew it was a lie. The maids head lolled back with a sigh. 

"You know who.", she whined frustratedly, hands gripping the mass of silver hair atop his head with a warning jerk.

"That bastard.", she growled, offering little else and refusing to speak his name, or title. Creighton released a breathy laugh, stroking the woman's flushed cheeks in an attempt to quell that aggravated fire towards such an unlucky man, and instead distract her with his body. 

Hoisting her leg up higher to wrap around his waist, hand seeking purchase on her ass, he paused. "Thats no way to talk about your husband.", he scoffed sardonically, tutting down at her in a way he knew wound her up.

Astraea rolled her eyes, out of pleasure or irritation, he wasn't sure. Both. "Hes not my--ahh!", her voice died as he grinded into her teasingly, deeply, length dragging against her sweetest spots. "Not my husband. He forced my hand and you know it."

It was true. When the vile, effeminate man had been publicly rejected by Astraea, he saw to it that her family were compromised if she did not accept the proposal. Would lose their house, their status, their land. Everything. The prick had parents in the right areas to make sure that such events would take place, moreso considering his distaste towards Creighton himself.

Creighton could do little about it - he was already on a tight leash, watched with a constant scrutiny upon his back from his past 'misbehavings'. They had admitted to keeping him simply for his terrifying prowess and skill as a knight. 

Thus, reluctantly and begrudgingly, Astraea had to agree. But she would never be faithful to the man, or lay with him for that matter. In fact...

Creighton gripped her delicate jaw, kissing her viciously before leaning his forehead against her own in a display of rare adoration. " 'm sorry. You know that, don't ya? I had no choice in the matter, what with him threatening your family, your name, threats to imprison us both." 

Then, he scowled as though reminded of something he found utterly trivial. "And even if he does know about the last prick that i killed--", he scoffed, eyebrows furrowing menacingly.

"Which you'd surely be executed for if he told even a soul", Astraea chimed in with a sigh.

"--the bastards terrified of me", he continued, "knows if you ain't happy in the slightest, or if he starts talking shit about the things I do, ill come after him too."

Astraea slapped his chest. "How someone like you hasn't been exiled yet is beyond me.", she giggled, grinding her hips against him teasingly. 

Then, with an almost seductive quirk of her lips, "remember when you murdered that man? In that empty farmhouse?", she bit her lip, grinding into the knight wantonly as the image invaded her mind in the most sinful of ways - an image she wished her husband was a part of, for the simple fact that he would play the part as the dead corpse.

Creighton quirked a brow, cock rubbing her insides torturously, slowly. "You're a woman as mad as me.", he snorted, hands affectionately burying themselves in her blonde locks, untying the knot to let them fall freely. 

Astraea smiled adoringly. "I am. Though I fear one day we'll take it too far.", she giggled, hands smoothing over his shoulders gently, lips moving to kiss at his strong neck in the sweetest of ways that had even the crazed knight melting. 

Creighton shrugged, the intensity of his sudden gaze causing her to blush. "Fuck 'em. Prick shouldn't have threatened you. Knighthood, be damned. I hate the fucking lot.", he growled, palming her breasts almost aggressively.

And he did. He despised Mirrah, despised the people, the knights, their situation, everything. Astraea sighed, dainty hands gripping his face. "I know. Believe me, I feel the same way. Would let them all burn, if I could.", and then she paused, "except for a few maids. Some of them have been dear to me."

Creighton agreed with that statement and smirked. "And let me have my way with you on the bloodied floor, I bet. Dirty girl.", his voice deepened, pace suddenly increasing. Astraeas face buried within his chest, moans falling from her lips at the thought of enacting such brutal revenge. 

"Yes", she nodded feverently, "like that time, that--", she gasped, "that man. There was so much blood--", her sentences broke into mewls as he fucked her into the wall, the memories of his brutal strength sending heat pooling at her centre.

"Mm, go on, tell me, love. Remind me.", he teased, gripping her under the other leg to fully hoist her up around his hips now. Astraea gasped, hands grasping around his neck tightly. 

"You maimed him", she breathed, voice a tone higher, "and then you fucked me in front of his body, blood soaking you head to toe, but--" she bit her lip, eyes clouding in lust as her hands moved to cherish his muscular biceps.

Creighton always knew when she was severely aroused. She'd often relentlessly touch him, rub at his arms, his shoulders, his face. 

Her head tilted back as he lathered her neck in kisses. "And did you like it, woman? Liked my cock filling you up with that pricks blood soaking the place? Mm, you're even sicker than me", he bit into her throat lightly, sharp canines that she loved threatening to pierce her milky skin.

Her gentle nod had him grinning. A firm thrust soon had her gasping once again, her lubrication soaking down her thighs, juices dripping down his balls. "Mm, you get like that, you needy thing. When you bleed, especially. Cant bloody satiate you.", he huffed a laugh, and she could only hum in agreement.

Hand upon her mouth once more, Creighton began pounding into Astraea desperately, groaning lowly in his throat at the tightness of her cunt. 

Swiftly, with a high pitched whine and a whisper of her impending orgasm, gushes of fluid soaked her legs, causing her to quiver uncontrollably as a few seconds later his cum sank into her depths with a final sigh of relief.

Gently lowering her to the floor, Creighton steadied her off balanced state, watching the hallways carefully as she tugged her dress down, smoothing it into place. Tucking himself back into his leathers, he retrieved his helmet from the floor lazily. 

Astraea gazed to the floor, eyes welling with tears as she swiftly retied her hair to appear presentable. "I don't want to go back to him, even though I must."

Creighton nodded, hand moving to grip at her jaw fondly. "I know. Got a plan brewing, don't you worry. We'll leave this shithole of a city when the pricks out the way."

Her expression remained solemn, teary, but a light tap to her cheek had her giggling, pushing at the mans chest playfully. "Be strong. He won't be alive for much longer.", Creighton grinned that maniacal grin of his, and she couldn't help but feel the warmth envelope her chest.

Smiling, Astraea stood back with a final nod. With a final goodbye, Astraea returned to the man she was forced to marry.

Creighton could only watch irritably as she left, helmet placed firmly upon his head once more. He was itching to kill the bastards that surrounded him, but he could wait. All in due time.

⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍

⌎⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⇲⊰⌏

Creighton hadn't realised that the final straw would be overstepped so suddenly, especially knowing of the weak man's fear towards him. 

He had wondered why Astraea was so melancholy and cautious, dismissing his advancements and shifting her dress constantly. And then had noticed the bruises, littering her collarbones and wrists. The slight cut to her lip that she put down to a mere accidental slip whilst doing her mundane duties.

But then all too soon, when forced to bare the weight of his eyes burning with anger and form rigid from tension, it had spilled from her mouth in sobs, the way that vile cretin of a man had taken advantage of her in a drunken state. 

As a knight, he could do nothing to his superior. Couldn't even speak out of line, legally she didn't belong to Creighton. 

But as Creighton, he acted upon it. Axe in hand, marching up to the pricks estate. 

Astraea hadn't witnessed the scuffle. Only the aftermath of her slaughtered husband, brain and entrails splattered upon the floor. Her crazed lover was lathered in the metallic smelling substance, breathing harshly through his nose as he watched the blood drain from the mans body in sickening amounts.

It permeated the air, the carpets, his clothes. And yet she couldnt help but smile, a bright, lovable one that had his heart melting. They were two unhinged, ostracised humans in perfect harmony. Nary a murmur of guilt was felt for the fool.

Stepping over his gutted corpse, staring blankly into the abyss, Astraea ran at Creighton with a shriek of glee, jumping into his bloodied arms as he caught her with a low chuckle, amused at her display of happiness. "I do hope this hasn't jeopardised your position as knight. They may begin to suspect at least one of us even if we do rid of the body." 

Little did they know, it had in fact jeopardised solely him, even as the two worked to cut up the body in segments and throw it to the pigs. The bastards father suspected it from the beginning, and the knights had no choice but to agree to their superior.

The arrest was made in the dead of night, a mask of the felon forced upon his head like a muzzle for a beast as he was paraded around the city the next day, chained and forced to walk through an onslaught of stoning and name calling. 

"Traitor!"  
"Kill him!"  
"Gut him!"

Creighton snarled at the words, but otherwise accepted his punishment. He'd destroy these people sooner or later. At least Astraea was safe and deemed innocent, her teary eyes gazing at him from the crowds of people, though she could do nothing but act as a casual bystander.

And now, days later, as he sat in a rat infested, outside cell, piss lining the hay he slept on, he smiled weakly through his felon mask as Astraea visited him one last time, the eve before his last breath. "Glad you're safe. Ill be dead by dawn.", his tone was clipped. 

He didn't expect her to laugh, and merely gazed at her in confusion, hands bound behind his back painfully, pliant and open to any stoning from the public. And, oddly, the darkened Street appeared dead. 

Astraea kneeled down, digging into her cloak pockets before producing a bronze key. "I wouldn't let you die, idiot. I would've come sooner, but the plan needed to be perfect."

Beckoning him closer with a hush, he kneeled stiffly upon the ground, bound arms facing her as she slipped her hands through the metal bars and unlocked the chain which kept him bound.

"Im going to have to leave now.", she slipped his axe through the bars - wide enough for objects to be thrown into, of course - and smiled. "You'll see the signal. When you do, come find me in the centre, beside that god awful statue.", he chuckled at that.

"For now,", she whispered, gazing over her shoulder, "pretend you are bound.". Standing swiftly, the woman gave him a final smile before running off, presumably towards the town.

Well, he thought, this signal better be pretty fucking obvious. 

⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍

⌎⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⇲⊰⌏

It was. It was entirely fucking obvious, within an hour. Creighton thought he had been hallucinating at first, but the sounds of women screaming and knights running was the telltale sign.

Smoke began to rise in the sky, an orange hue growing big enough to swallow an entire, wooden roofed house in flames. Creighton stood with a sigh, "Guess that's the damn clue. Dramatic woman.", he chuckled, unlocking the rusty prison door before stepping out, weapon in hand. 

And it was a bloodbath, he thought. The fire had burned half the town centre to ash, bodies littering the floor. Knights fought off the murderers and convicted criminals that had managed to escape during the fire, blood painting the ground red.

Slashing down a few foes with an excited chuckle, Creighton stood impatiently by the statue, awaiting her arrival. Sure enough, a blonde head poked out amongst the massacre of criminal's and knights, the flames adding to the utter catastrophe. 

Her sword was bathed in fresh blood, light streaks of blood painting her cheek. Upon witnessing his form, Astraea smiled beautifully, he thought, a diamond in the rough surrounded by numerous corpses. He felt like a young adolescent, watching her run to him as though he were the only man alive. 

"Good plan, wouldn't you say? Got the whole lot of convicts on my cause. Seems they know of your name.", she smiled, gripping his hand tightly. The blood of their enemies mingled between their palms, and yet the utter depravity of the situation had Astraea giggling softly. 

"We're free.", she murmured, head resting peacefully against Creightons arm as the fire blazed ahead of them, wails and screams creating a cacophonic mixture within the air of chaos, and yet it was all so perfect. 

And as the town slaughtered itself, fires engulfing and destroying the vile town of Mirrah, the two eagerly partook in the disharmony as though it were a sport, slashing and hacking down the various bastard knights they had sworn to kill.

The innocent ran around them wildly, terrified of the blood lusting, murdering couple that they were. But they saw little reason to attack defenceless women and children. No, merely glided past them with an air of tranquility. 

Soon enough, the convicts had overtaken the town, slaughtering every cunt knight that had wronged them, whether with good reason or not, Creighton didn't find that he cared. 

Either way, the town was at its end, and all those who could shame Astraeas family gone with it. And so, walking side by side, blood dripping down their form, the two vanished into the forest and never looked back.

They had stopped at a vast pond, shrouded in thick blankets of trees as the moonlight reflected upon it magically. Of course, the stop was purely for hygiene reasons, they were both in need of a wash, but..

Creighton had other plans. His cock was hard from the adrenaline, merely growing to its full state of arousal at witnessing the now free woman, his woman, stripping oh so innocently before him, dropping her dainty, blood soaked dress to the ground without a care in the world.

Her crimson splattered sword sat neatly beside her tattered dress, a final hand lifting to free her blonde waves of its confines before she soundlessly made her way into the cool pond, the trickle and splash of small streams emphasising the serenity of their surroundings, and now, their life.

Though creighton supposed that ones definition of an idyllic life typically did not mean what him and Astraea believed, he snorted. 

Astraea was hip deep into the water now, the coppery dried substance floating about her like a sickening halo of red, or in contrary, a ring of the damned. There was a fine line between such an antithesis, Creighton believed. 

Simply being righteous does not extinguish the possibility of being chaotic. Likewise, violence may be unlawful, and yet serving justice all the same. 

He grinned. Definition is what that town lacked. The ability to think outside of its societal shackles. No matter, they were nothing but draining corpses at this point.

With swift, evidently skilled movements, the former knight of Mirrah removed his tabard with a satisfying rip, scrunching the now remnants of his former title and throwing it to the ground. In time, his armour was beside Astraeas, the felony mask remaining within his possession, too.

Creightons pale skill glowed within the moonlight, powerful arms reaching down to unclasp his grieves meticulously. His upper form lacked any attire, defined, massive chest in full display.

Glancing lazily up to Astraea, who had remained peacefully quiet during the entire ordeal, he couldn't prevent the slow quirk of his lips at having her undivided attention upon his form. 

"You're staring", he scoffed, unperturbed by the attention as he finally rid himself of all articles of clothing, standing nudely and very much nonchalantly ahead of her.

Astraeas eyes trailed the length of his form, burning into his defined abdomen, the powerful thighs beneath that and then..

She bit her lip. With a tinge of redness upon her cheeks, the woman turned away with a shy smile hidden behind her hand, disappearing altogether as her curvaceous form sunk below the water for a thorough cleansing. 

The murderer shook his head, entering the soothing water up until his navel. He grabbed handfuls of water to pour upon his broad shoulders, flowing down his form in tainted rivulets of red.

Soon, Astraea re-emerged from the flowing confines of the crystal-esque glowing water, golden hair darkened by the absorption of water into its strands, and it now clung in a straight line down her spine. 

The plump curves of her ass caused the water to outline her like a piece of art, rippling and sloshing upon the thick globes gently. With her back to the man, the woman lifted her arms to wring out her dripping hair, a sliver of side breast appealing to him from beneath her arm, heavy and sizable, he thought.

Astraea could feel his presence behind her but thought nothing of it. Sometimes, the two descended into a comfortable silence, so she had no qualms or fear of his towering form behind her. 

Though, within her thoughts, she supposed she didn't judge just how close he was, for upon pivoting in his direction, her face was in line with his muscular chest, and he was staring down at her with utter rawness in his eyes. 

Astraea gave a light smile, redness dusting her cheeks at their naked proximity. "Dont you look at me like that", she chastised lightly, pushing at his chest in utter futility. The nudge did nothing. "We best make our way to the next town.", she commented offhandedly, a distraction very much needed from the way he was looking at her with those icy eyes.

They had murderer together as equals. Maimed, destroyed, fought. As equals. But in the carnal desire for ones body, in the primal display of complete arousal and lust..

Creighton would not be questioned about such authority. The hunger for control lied with him, and Astraea was not one to fight it.

But now, as the silver haired demon towered over her with that steely eyed look, she knew what he was after. And she'd submit. Oh, most definitely. But not without a bit of a fight. Or, as he calls it, a tantrum, a moment of attention seeking.

With a sudden pout to her lips, one that did not escape the narrowed eyes of the murderer, Astraea retracted her hand and turned away, arms hugging her chest from his prying eyes. She did so love to play the brat.

She supposed her recent pillage had landed her an ounce of temporary confidence. 

"Where do y'think you're going, woman?", the eerily calm voice of Creighton spoke, common and accented as ever, but he knew she loved it. Loved being railed by a felon of low class, forced to sink to his level, get rutted into the dirt.

Astraea paused at the tone. It was when he was at his most aloof and disinterested that she desired him the most. And currently, his voice was as cold as a winter sea. Purposely. They played this game often enough to know that she consented, even if dubious at times. 

With a flick of her hair particularly sassily, Astraea gazed over her shoulder with a slight, undefined frown. "Merely to dress. Why?", her voice was airy and unbothered, even if her insides were quivering. 

Creighton regarded her with a dead stare, rooting her to the spot. "Mm, are you sure about that?", he queried sardonically, large hand moving to grip at her curved figure that he loved. 

The question was a dead end. Rhetorical. It was meant as a subtle warning that, no, she was not going anywhere and, yes, he was merely asking as a hint that he was giving her a chance to correct herself.

And usually she would. But not today. Hand slapping his own away, she moved forward once more, the water growing shallower to reveal the round cheeks of her ass. "Yes. Or do I require your p-permission?", she threw back weakly, a slight, weak stutter in her voice that she cursed herself for. 

Feeling proud at his stunned silence, Astraea felt a spark of excitement at defying him in their little game. 

But then the water began to feel cold. The air chilled. Or was that her own fear choking her at his next words?

"Dont you take another fucking step", a gravelly voice sneered from behind her. Astraea quivered. Creighton was loving, on rare occasion, but in moments like these, he was monstrous in his punishments. 

Astraea faltered automatically, biting her lip out of nervous habit. Her insides burned with anxiety to turn and see his stormy expression, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. With a shaky exhale and fierce determination, or perhaps morbid curiosity at how he'd react, she took another step, and another.

And the deafening silence that followed drove her mad. Her body forced itself to stop as she was in shallow water, knee deep. Turning slowly, the loud sloshing of water had her eyes widening, heart lodging into her throat at his swift form taking giant leaps through the water.

She didn't know whether to run or to freeze. With a stuttered gasp, Astraea felt her fleeing instincts consume her. Turning, the woman made a dash, only for a firm, iron grip arm to wrench itself around her body and drag her into his own form with a smack of their wet bodies. 

Astraea couldn't stop the yelp that left her lips, bare, big ass flush against his groin. And then she felt him lean, the calmness of his breath hitting her ear in alarming composure. "I see how it is.", he growled lowly, hand moving to grasp at her neck.

"I misjudged, thought you wanted that passionate shit after tonight, but now.. ", he chuckled darkly, constricting her throat roughly. "Now I see this act of defiance is a cry for attention. You want to be fucked, not loved. Well", he grinned, lips trailing the length of her pulse dangerously, "I can do that. I can do that until you're begging me to stop.", he whispered lowly, biting sharply into her neck until she whimpered. 

With a grip that could bruise, Creighton was suddenly manhandling her, her body tugged roughly to the point of almost falling if not for his strong grip, and was forced to bend over a large rock with a sharp push to her back.

Gasping, the woman draped across the rock, turning back at him with fearful, excited eyes. Her wet ass plumped nicely, waist appearing attractively sinched at such a position. Creighton groaned despite himself, palming the fatty cheeks lustfully. 

He loved a woman with a bit of meat on her bones. And then with a fierce slap, his hand barrelled down upon her. Astraea cried out, the suddenness of it making her ass sting painfully. And he did it again. And again. 

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, teeth biting her lip to stifle her cries. Her ass was red, she knew, and he gave it a gentle stroke before resuming his onslaught. 

Creightons length was hard, and he groaned as the flesh jiggled beneath his palm at every slap. "Mm, I don't think you're learning your lesson", he growled, fingers dipping between her folds to feel the sopping wetness.

Astraea gasped, legs widening obediently for him, but he only scoffed condescendingly. "You need a real fucking punishment, stuck up little whore.", he seethed, gripping her shoulders and forcing her onto her back with a painful thud.

Astraeas gaze wavered, pulse frantic in her chest. When Creighton disappeared, she couldnt stop herself from propping up onto her elbows, legs wide as she glanced to find his form. And he did reappear. And the mere sight of him had her stomach dropping.

Creightons strong hand held the vicious tool he used to slaughter, an axe imbued with lightning. Except, the edged axe was directed the wrong way, hanging down beside his calf, while the handle was..

Astraea shivered. The handle was pointed towards her thighs. Thick, sturdy and well used. Creighton chuckled darkly, pressing the haft against her quivering centre with a rough nudge at her labia. 

Astraea gasped, hands moving to grip at his wrist. "D-dont. The axe is steeply pointed, if you push that in me it could cut me!" She squeaked, moving to grip at the handle with force.

And thats when his eyes became utterly cold, jaw set tensely as evident irritation became apparent across his features. Gripping her slim wrist, he tore her hand from the axe handle and pushed her against the rock so she was flat on her back. 

"You better take your fucking punishment, woman", he warned, sinking the tip of the thick handle within her entrance. Astraeas eyes squeezed shut, a pained breath exhaling from her body. 

He pushed further. Sunk the blunt haft slowly into her tight core, the girth of it stretching her out deliciously. The way she whined and writhed had him hard, desperate, but he'd wait. 

Astraea gasped against the rock as the handle pushed into her until just over a quarter of the way, filling her in the most terrific way. Her face was flushed, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths of nervousness and anticipation. 

Her gripping centre molded around the haft, wet folds a pretty pink as they sucked up the length of the axe handle greedily. 

And then he began fucking her with the handle, pulling it out and thrusting it back in until it reached almost half way, but not quite. He repeated the motion in long strokes, relishing in the way she'd cry out and grip the rock in part pain and pleasure of the invading axe, one she'd forever see as a phallic symbol from now on. 

One that he'd hold and battle with, knowing her sinful insides had desired it like a real cock. 

Creighton gripped her thigh, wedging it open roughly to bare her puffing lips to him. "Oh, likes that, does she?", he growled, angling the handle until it hit parts of her that only his dick could. 

It had her wailing, the shape of it very clearly not made for a use such as this, and yet the odd bump or the painful friction at times is what had her almost drooling. "Its..its stretching me.", she winced, shuddering as the murderer retrieved the entire handle slowly, before thrusting halfway in once again.

Astraea choked on a whine, head tumbling back lazily as she could do nothing but accept the onslaught of the thrusting axe handle, pummelling into her roughly until tears glistened her eyes.

"Your cunt is a sinful thing", he tutted, gripping the upper part of the handle firmly. "Well, if its more you want.", he grinned, easing over halfway of the axe into her.

Astraeas voice was shrill, gasps high pitched as she shook her head frantically despite the pleasure. It hurt, the length was unbearable for her insides as it began to push against her cervix bruisingly. "Please stop!", she cried, inhaling a shuddering gasp as Creighton continually pushed the handle in slowly.

Creighton scoffed. He was well aware that she wanted him to continue otherwise she'd use the safe word that they had agreed on. And yet, the sweet, begging words being pulled from her mouth had his cock pulsing and weeping. 

Astraea bit her lip roughly to stifle her moans, though upon glancing down at her stuffed entrance, her eyes widened and she became frantic. "Stop, the axe will pierce me!", she shrieked. 

The elongated point was there for slaughtering and wedging into the tough scales of dragon skin. And that point was gaining closer to her soft lips and slippery clit, a mere few inches away as it glinted dangerously. "C-creighton, stop!", she wailed, gripping at his arm fiercely.

Lubrication puddled down her inner thighs despite her words, slipping down onto her cheeks and slowly gliding down the handle within her and onto his fingers. Creighton gripped her thigh, forcing it down and open once more. "If you were scared you wouldn't be bloody soaked, you whore.", he cackled madly, inching ever so slowly the steely point towards the most delicate area of her body.

Astraea began to pant, heart thundering within her chest from the oncoming, sharp point, her entire body quivering with the need to cum and the urge to scream. "I..please! I'm sorry I disobeyed you!", she rambled, breaths high to the point of being shrill. 

Creighton hummed, encouraging further words from her as he torturously moved the handle within her deeper, painfully, the tip of the axe almost in direct contact to the skin of her lips. "Oh, she's sorry now?", he spat sardonically, cruelly using his free hand to spread her lips apart and bare her hyper sensitive clit to the frigid air. 

Astraea cried out, her cervix felt like it was cramming in on itself, her body jolting as the dangerous point was far too close for comfort. "I-Im sorry, please! I'll listen, ill--", she cried, tears strolling down her cheeks in both over whelming pleasure and fear. 

And then, as Creighton demonstrated no signs of stopping, Astraea rambled at a pace that even she couldnt keep up. "You punish me so well but please, have mercy! I won't question your authority again, I--"

Creighton grinned darkly, cruelly, gripping the handle tightly before slowly retrieving the massive length of it from her poor insides, strings of thick lubrication sticking to it lewdly. "Well, look at that.", he pushed his fingers against her hole, retrieving them soaked in her sticky essence that connected between his two fingers. 

He flexed them disgustingly, showcasing her arousal upon his fingers as she could only blush furiously. "Fucking whore.", he snorted, throwing his axe to the ground with a clang. 

Standing to his full height, Creighton nudged his powerful thighs between her own, muscled body towering over the quivering woman. "If you wanted to be fucked, you should've just asked, not paraded around like a demanding wench".

Astraea nodded, gazing at the thick cock between his thighs lustfully. Opening her legs as much as possible, the woman scooted forward to wrap her calfs around the mans strong hips. "Please, fuck me.", she whispered meekly, staring up at him with those wide eyes that would usually make him have mercy. 

Creighton rolled his eyes, though the quirk of his lip that he tried to stifle made her heart leap. In one motion, the man thrusted in roughly with a groan. 

And he ravaged her. Astraea was a writhing, moaning mess, body jiggling to his every thrust as her head hung back weakly and took everything he had to offer. 

His cock was huge, deliciously above average men, thick and long. And it pounded into her mercilessly, hushed threats and vile words seething through his clenched teeth that only served to make her spine tingle and her insides tighten.

Creightons terrifying form pushed her body into the rock, hands grabbing at her thighs roughly to pull her meaty thighs over his broad shoulders. The depth was insane, and it had Astraea crying out loudly, gripping at his forearms desperately.

"Look at you,", he growled, pistoning into her heat with renewed vigor, "Like it rough, do you?", he mocked, grabbing at her jiggling breasts roughly, pinching the nipples.

"Y-yes!", she cried, arching up into his every touch as though starved. She loved how he fucked her, couldn't ever get enough of it. 

And Creighton felt the same. Her body was perfection to him, a flawless frame that he simply had to destroy in moments like this. "Mm, take it then!", he chuckled lowly, fucking into her velvety hole so hard she couldnt breathe, let alone talk.

"C-creighton I'm-- I -- g-gonna cum--..cumming! C-creighton!", she wailed, thrashing about in his strong arms as her insides gushed with unrestrained bliss, coating his cock, balls and navel in the warmness of it all. 

Creighton groaned at her shaking form, watching her eyes close blissfully as her insides pulsed repeatedly, greedy for cum. 

With a few more thrusts, Creighton was cumming with a gravelly moan, pulsing until his cock erupted with hot cum against her cervix, ropes of the substance shooting out in jolts that had Astraea moaning softly, pleased at the feeling.

Soon, his cum dribbled around his cock, and finally he retrieved it, softening, watching as her pussy oozed with it down her succulent ass. 

She was panting, form flushed and quivering in the aftershocks. Creighton chuckled, a lighter tone this time, conveying genuine amusement. "You happy now, woman? Could've asked, y'know.", he rolled his eyes, moving to pick up her weak form in his arms, carrying her back into shallow water to sit.

Astraea smiled sweetly, softly, arm holding him as she sat within the water, him crouched beside her. "I know, but..", she pouted, gazing up at him, "I wanted you to punish me.", she giggled. 

Creighton revealed a cheeky sort of smirk, quirking his lips handsomely, charmingly. "Mm, love being forced into place, don't you? Well, 'm glad you're satisfied.", he muttered, placing a quick, uncharacteristic kiss to her hair that had her heart melting entirely.

The sweet smile she offered him had him faltering, moreso when her arms wrapped lovingly around his large torso. But he didn't complain, this time. 

If anything, Astraea swore she could see a tinge of pinkess upon his pale skin, even if his face was purposely turned away from here in one of his moments of pride, she snorted. Regardless, a heavy muscled arm moved to wrap around her tightly.

Smiling into his chest, Astraea was glad that they had changed their life for the better. 

Even if that meant slaughtering.

Because lets be honest, they had not an ounce of mercy for anybody. 

And now, ostracised and together, they were sure to wreak havoc on any other stuck up bastard who opposed them. 

And end them permanently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone notice how unoriginal i am with names? Everyone's called Astraea 😏 
> 
> I HOPE U ENJOY THOUGH I LOVED WRITING THIS. also I lied when I said I'd make a short fanfic because THIS IS 6100 WORDS LONG lol. Oops


	7. Lorian - f/m (slight daddy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorian spent his final days as a healthy man with his maid, Imelda. Much to her dismay, Lorian had a taste for something forbidden tonight. 
> 
> Even so, his final days would be spent exploiting his new found sexual relationship with his maid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this cringy? Idk. Maybe? I hope you like it either way. 
> 
> I purely made up how Lorian may act. Its vague on purpose just in case.
> 
> Also at first I thought imelda was a good name but then I thought of velma from scooby doo lmao but I rolled with it. Soo..

☆Lorian☆  
\----------------

Fate had been sealed for the older prince, a man of wit, skill and an utter philanderer at that. He never was the chosen one to take the throne of lords. But, as his younger brother began to dwindle, weaken considerably, it had been decided that Lorian would bare that burden for the life of his brother.

Lorian had no qualms about that. He knew the full extent - being unable to speak, walk, might even become crippled. Regardless, it was a decision he had made with ease. As long as Lothric was well, that's all that mattered. 

Lorian would now enjoy the time he had left as a healthy man, prestieged and popular for his accomplishments. The young maid he had made an..acquaintance with, had reacted poorly to his decision, naturally.

Emma often said that fraternising with the maids would give him a bad image. His father, on the other hand, said that he should aim to actually keep it a secret this time. 

Lorian cared little for public image and noble, higher class standards. It was evident that the world was about to perish anyhow, many of the citizens of Lothric dwindling into mindless husks.

Soon, the world would be dead. Little did anyone know that him and Lothric had already planned to let the fire die. Such blasphemy would never be tolerated, but it was a simple fact they had agreed on years ago.

And now, in the few days he had left, he'd make them count. 

⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍  
⌎⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⇲⊰⌏

The maid, Imelda, sat obediently on her knees, naked and bound at the wrists as a silk blindfold obstructed her view. "L-lord, what is it that we are doing?", she stuttered.

She could hear the thudding footsteps of his form circling her. "No questions. You will obey me", his deep voice had her on edge, excitedly submitting nonetheless. She so very much enjoyed how common the princes tongue was. He had little care for using the noble words of the language. He'd much rather be normal without the frivolities of princeliness.

The fact that she could only hear him had goosebumps decorating her skin, the coolness that followed him enticing her, lulling her. 

And then warmth. Bodily warmth that radiated onto her due to proximity, a musky, strong scent invading her nostrils as she sat obediently upon her knees, waiting, knowing from the mere, masculine aroma what it is that he desired. 

"How am I to..to..", she stuttered, flexing her wrists against her bounds, but to no avail.

She heard him shift, guessing that he was most likely staring down at her with amusement in his bright yellow eyes. 

And then it was against her lips, thick and heavy and hard, the saltiness of precum oozing past her lips deliciously. Imelda supposed she understood now. He didn't want neat and tidy, he wanted dirty and sloppy with no hands. 

Slowly, the maid opened her obedient mouth, allowing access to his hardened length. It sunk in with practised ease, nudging its way to the back of her throat eagerly.

Imelda sucked the length vigorously, tongue moving to glide along the length and underside. The feeling of a hand gripping her hair had her jolting, hands neatly within her lap as she practically slobbered all over the princely dick.

And then it was gone, torn from her mouth with a gasp. "S-sir?" 

Lorian tutted, gripping the woman's bound hands and pulling her to her feet. "I think not. You can be more common than that, I'm sure.", he chuckled sardonically, leading the woman to the extravagant bed. 

Imelda blushed, allowing herself to be pushed into a sitting position. "I..what do you wish for me to call you?"

Lorian hummed, cool fingers toying with her nipples. Imelda inhaled sharply, parting her thighs in shameless invitation. "Master?", she quivered, hands knotting into a nervous ball. 

Lorian eased the woman back, and she could feel the long length of his silver hair brush against her neck gently. 

He did not reply. The only indication of his presence at all was the growing warmth upon her skin. He was shedding himself of layers of princely clothes and armour, tossing the offending pieces to the floor without a care. 

The lithe and toned weight of him settled atop her, strong thighs nudged between her own. With a firm grip, he lifted her bonded wrists to rest over his neck, his lips quirking at her evident embarrassment. 

"Perhaps something more," he paused, and Imelda could already feel the immense heat of his length between her thighs, "intimate. Forbidden.", he suggested.

Imelda couldnt help but purse her lips. Intimate..forbidden..what on Earth kind of title combined those two meanings?

The thought escaped her when a hot, rounded tip nudged against her labia, trailing the slippery length from hole to clit in repetitive motions. 

"I, ah..I cant think.", she breathed lightly, widening her legs as a subconscious hint to be penetrated immediately. The blindfold distracted her even more, almost as though her other senses were enhanced. 

And then finally with a push, his princely cock graced her lesser insides deliciously, parting the flexible muscle with a groan as the softness melded to his shape.

Inhaling sharply, Imelda wrapped her ankles around his back, head tilting back at the final, full insertion of him slipping in to the hilt. "How about-", she hesitated, gripping at his hair as the man shifted to bring both hands under her thighs. "-father? T-thats intimate and..most certainly forbidden."

She heard him scoff with a light chuckle, cool lips descending upon her neck to lavish the sensitive skin. "Mm, not quite. Dirtier.", he commanded, hips gyrating into her own languidly.

Imelda sighed softly, raising her hips to meet his own delicately. The teasing friction of his length barely gliding against her deepest pleasure was frustrating and addicting. The maid huffed, legs squeezing around him encouragingly.

She could hear the prince laugh in that deep baritone of his, so rich and oozing of unconstrained amusement. It was a soft sound, though its depth sunk into her heart perhaps a bit too delightfully. That was a secret best kept to oneself.

Imelda scowled behind her blindfold, thinking. What could he possibly wish to hear her say? All the while, the Prince was unrelenting in his teasing strokes, hips pulling his length out gently until the tip, before sinking in slowly to the hilt and refusing to move or thrust. Refusing to stimulate her crying nerves. 

It was mind numbing. Imelda could feel the oozing wetness gather past her outer lips messily. A particular, angled thrust had her gasping and moaning lightly, a surge of heat soaking into her abdomen like a fire. 

"Im waiting, little maid. It is unjust to keep your Prince waiting for this long." He warned teasingly. Imelda took the moment to realise that he was oh so full of life and excitement, and all that would soon be gone. It was more than unjust to keep him waiting, she thought. He had limited time.

Breathing slowly, Imelda swallowed her pride. "W-well, there is one title that might.. please you.", she stuttered shyly, even if she had the resolve to keep going. The hands binded around his neck gathered within his hair almost lovingly, and Imelda began to smile. 

Not that she could see, but Lorian raised a brow in interest at her sudden soft smile. And, if anything, he simply stared for a moment. It would be a memory to cherish until death. A memory that he hopes to remember even in his forewarned crippled state of the near future. 

"Go on, then. Indulge me.", he murmured, moving down to lightly bite at her exposed neck. His length sat within her snugly, refusing to offer any form of craved stimulation. 

Imelda squirmed, moving her hips once more. "I..well..what about-", she cut herself off, humiliation enveloping her. The word felt wrong. It felt..childlike and utterly forbidden in this sense. "It..it's rather wrong to say it.." 

Lorian hummed, and then the sensation of his thumb upon her clit had her shuddering. "And your shame is more overpowering than your desire for me? How treacherous, little maid.", he mocked lightly, circling the small nub tenderly. 

Imelda mewled, eagerly lifting her hips up into his hand. "What about..", she huffed in frustration, and yet the excitement and shame that filled her only added to her arousal. "D-..daddy?" 

Lorian paused. Imelda flushed as she felt his cock lightly pulsing within her, burying deeper as he groaned. "Filthy. If the palace heard such an utterance, they'd have you torn away from me immediately. Corrupting the prince, and all that.", he chuckled lowly. 

"Its perfect.", he finished thoughtfully, as though he himself hadn't expected it. And yet the flare of arousal spiraling through him proved his lust towards such a title. 

Imelda gasped in delight as the elder Prince finally began to move, her torture ending abruptly with the smooth stroke of his hot length into her. He began to thrust rapidly, not allowing her a moment of breath but she wouldn't want it any other way. 

"Such a dirty maid i have, and working under the Eldest Prince, no less. How scandalous.", he mocked, gripping at her ass to pull her upon his knees somewhat, her legs in the air and spread open. "Again.", he demanded. 

Imelda felt herself getting manhandled into position, a sense of nervous anticipation settling within her. "Daddy.", she mumbled shyly, glancing away even if she couldnt see him. A firm hand to her jaw had her jolting, lips parting in a silent gasp. 

Lorian grinned and began a fast paced thrusting, hands moving to grip the underside of her thighs for leverage as he buried himself in deeply. Imelda moaned, arching up into him for more. 

She could feel her insides quivering desperately for release, tightening around his thick length. 

Lorian groaned, his silver hair pooling around her face as he leaned above her. "What am I?", he breathed, thumb nudging its way to her clit once more.

Imelda thrashed at the over sensitive nerves, gripping onto him tightly. "Youre..you're daddy.", she whined, legs beginning to quake.

Lorian grunted, his cock pounding into her lustfully as her writhing body moaned and pleaded for him. "I am." With a relentless pace and rough circles around her slippery clit, Imelda was tipped over the edge gloriously, contracting and spasming around his rigid length with a cry of pleasure. 

In witnessing the woman moan for him in bliss, Lorian felt his cock pulse with the need to release. Gripping her hips tightly, it was with a few more rough thrusts that had him filling her with his hot essence, coating her insides with a comforting warmth. 

The two basked in their afterglow, and soon Lorian shifted to retrieve the blindfold and binding from her wrists. 

Imelda smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Daddy."

Lorian scoffed, pushing at her playfully. "We have plenty of time for that. For now, get dressed. I hear footsteps.", he warned, tugging his bottoms on with amusing speed and running to the golden embellished door, a hand upon it to keep it shut. 

"Brother, may I come in?", the child like voice of Lothric spoke eagerly. 

Imelda dressed with speed and humiliation. It was luck that the young boy hasn't walked in a moment too soon. With a nod to Lorian, the door finally opened. 

Lothric blinked. "Hello, maid Imelda. What were you two doing?"

Lorian smiled. "Nothing, little brother. Imelda was helping me tend to this evenings clothes. You know I've never been good with that since mother left."

Lothric nodded. "I see. Is that why you're half naked? That doesn't explain Imelda's tights upon the ground." He pointed.

Imelda practically died of shame. Lorian blanched. 

Lothric scoffed.


	8. Patches - f/m

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had locked you within the tower and you swore your revenge to him one day. 
> 
> Unfortunately, in a care free game of chess with the rest of the shrine, you hadn't realised just what repercussions could occur if you lost. 
> 
> Patches had a sinister plan brewing in his mind for when you did, undoubtedly, lose. 
> 
> Its a shame that your pride and ego blinded you to that fact, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patches x female yaay. I enjoyed writing this. Patches isn't really crazy in this one, so soon I'll make one where he is more sinister.
> 
> Enjoy, keep the requests coming 🧡
> 
> Also I added the term ampitheatre literally because I was looking at pics from 2018 of my trip to Italy, Pompeii which had an ampitheatre so I thought hm..comparison. its a bit random, so heres why!
> 
> Also the first half of the fic has weird spacing and idk why? Am soz

☆Patches☆  
\--------------------

Perhaps you had ventured further than what was safe. The tower was locked for a reason, of course. And yet, you spared nary a thought as to why. Regardless, it most likely held some useful treasures for you to use along your journey.

Alas, as time convolutes and twists dangerously, so does your luck.

It was with a dropping gut that you heard the cacophonic echo of screeching bars slam shut below you. So loud, in fact, that the very peculiar lift you were upon could not compete with such a vile sound, travelling up the tower like an old ampitheatre projects sound - an utterly foreign concept of architecture you bizarrely happened upon during an accidental slip in timelines, of all things.

Regretfully, the current situation does not harbour an ounce of entertainment and comfort like such an architecture. No, in this tower, you are very much imprisoned, and the host of the play to be laughed at and mocked by that vicious, hyena-like man from the opposite, unconfined side of the bars.

"Be more careful! By the gods, curiosity is going to kill you kittens.", he spoke with mock concern, or perhaps actual chastisement. Regardless, it unsettled you. 

"Some places are better left alone, you know", he spoke offhandedly, tapping the bars of your 'new home' as though testing the strength and durability of the bars. 

You could only stare, shrouded in the Drakeblood set that you had found during your many voyages. You were efficiently shadowed, you knew. The utter blackness of the set did well to allow you a sense of furtiveness within the dim tower. 

And despite your tongue almost pulsing with the urge to curse the man, you didn't. Merely scoffed and kicked the dirt below you as an indication of reproach. 

He'd hollow soon, anyway, with an idiotic habit like that. Someone was bound to kill him. Even you, perhaps. Remaining calm would do you best, you'd confront him once you were free of the prison. 

Revealing any weaknesses of anger would only be used against you. Bastards like him see it as a game, after all.

Peering up, the rather tall man appeared to be staring at you, permanent empty smile upon his face. Rattling the bars once more just to rile you up, he sighed almost dramatically.

"Have no fear, there's beauty in death.  
Besides, you're surrounded by ladies. Every man's dream, right?", he chuckled, shaking his bald head at the utter stupidity of your actions. 

And that's when you paused. Women? Glancing at the very bottom of the tower, there was indeed a multitude of skeletal remains, the tattered robes of many firekeepers littering their bodies. 

And then you frowned behind your helmet. Man? You.. were far from being a man. And this cretin believed you to be such. Well, you didn't mind. Felt safer if people thought you were male. Often times, predatory bastards would leave you alone that way.

Thus, you played along.

Sparing him a final glare, you jumped down the depth of the tower. You'd get back to firelink shrine, and only hope that the rat had scurried off before you stick a sword through his eye.

He had, in fact, scuttled off somewhere. 

It had been a few days his since next return, and the blood within you boiled as you approached the nonchalant man. 

And his dark eyes immediately caught onto you. Raising his hands automatically, the man dared to release a breathy laugh. "Now, hold your horses, let's have a nice talk about this. I'll come clean, I did you wrong. I didn't mean it, though, not one bit.", he stepped back at your approaching form, eying your claymore warily. 

The closer you marched onward, the taller his frame appeared to get, and you were beginning to have second thoughts, truth be told. 

Pointing the edge of your blade at him menacingly, Patches eyed you up and down curiously, humming in thought. "Now I mean no offense, but you're a rather stout fellow, eh? Much like those Catarina lot, short and..", he paused, "jolly?"

You rolled your eyes. Was this man a fool, or was he merely trying to rile you on purpose? 

His face depicted sheepishness, though somewhere beneath that, he was a wolf, you knew. You could smell his facade. It made the hair on your neck stand up unpleasantly. 

With a final point of your sword in complete silence, your short form turned to leave, ignoring his nonsense of making friends. You didn't want to see that man again.

But unfortunately, he most certainly saw you. 

It had been a week, and thus far your unkindled duties had been mostly completed, if not for a few unpleasant deaths here and there. Settling within the shrine, you made it your goal to catch up with everybody. 

Greirat chatted with you about his latest findings and his new, rather interesting friendship with Karla. Unexpected, but entertaining when the two chatted about utterly different concepts of their lives.

Leonhard congratulated you on your 'pillaging', though you were more of an avid helper than anything. Not that he needed to know. You didn't need any unnecessary enemies. You had little idea on what to do about the constant cracked red eye orbs he handed to you. Still, it was always pleasant to converse with the intellectual man. His word games were a joy to you.

And then, your oh so favourite, Eygon of Carim. Though the mans soul was possibly made out of sarcasm from the amount he spat, he was an appreciated ally. One who grounded you in your moments of illogic, or your 'pointless concerns.' 

"Ah, been some time.", he mused, arms crossed solidly.

The two of you conversed for a while, digging each other with the odd sardonic remark and chuckling soon afterwards. 

All was well, it seemed. Though, peering up, you couldn't help the twinge of discomfort at seeing that hyena man at times. You swore he was staring at you, and yet everytime you looked, he was happily going about his business. 

Bastard, you thought. 

Your luck ran even thinner when the tall male came down from his den, talking far too friendly amongst real friends of yours. 

In a current discussion with Anri, you swiftly bid your farewell at the approaching figure of the bald man. 

"Hold your horses, mate! And just what do a couple of explorers like you two have to be talking about, then?", he spoke cheerfully, arm wrapping itself around Anri's form as the smaller male offered a polite smile. 

"Oh, nothing of incredible interest", Anri chuckled, indicating to your sideways form - an indication of your wish to leave - "I am merely thanking her for safely guiding Horace back to me. Oh, it was truly a terrifying--"

"Her? And which 'her' would you be talking about, lad? Surely not the little ol' firekeeper over there.", Patches grinned. He had the gall to gaze about the place questioningly. 

  
Anri blinked. You tensed. This man still thought you were a male. Anri rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Our dear unkindled, of course.", he spoke your name with warmth, though offered no indication towards you otherwise.

Patches stood tall, glancing about almost comically. "Unkindled, eh? Those lot are a sorry bunch of ash.", he chuckled, "and you,", he indicated to your silent form, repeating your name once more. "Bit of a girly name for a man, but who am I to judge?"

Anri was becoming rather flustered now. And you were growing impatient. With a huff of anger and an unseen glare through your helmet, you stomped off and up the steps, seeking a moment of peace from the infuriating man.

"What got his sword in a knot?", you heard the vulgar man mutter to Anri.

\-------------

It was cold now. The remnants of day demonstrated their final goodbye in the blotchiness of leftover blue within the sky. You couldn't sleep, not comfortably anyway.

That man. Patches, everybody called him. He lingered in your mind like an illness. Something about him set you off. He was conniving, a liar, overly furtive. A possible threat to your friends. The firekeeper. You.

And it wasn't as though you were mute. You could slice into him with the form of bitter words, and yet..you simply couldn't open your mouth around him. His lecherous grin had you faltering, and you didn't know why.

If anything, you felt abhorrence for him. And now, regardless of cold and discomfort, you'd far rather stay outside by the comforting arch tree than in there where he could..watch you.

The shrine was silent, save for a few politely quiet night owls who had the same trouble as you at sleeping. And patches was gone, thankfully. Gripping at your helmet, you tugged the confining thing off with a sigh, your underhood remaining up to ease the chill of the night.

You were restless. Perhaps you'd climb that tower again, if only just to spite the bastard.

You crossed the narrow, broken path that leads to the firekeeper tower, glancing off to the left and down at the roof below with that invisible bird that often chirped at your every passing.

Sometimes you simply sat upon the roof, gazing at the sight of Lothric Castle from afar.

Jumping down with ease, you ventured a little further than usual, edging the perimeter of the roof. The outside of the shrine was purely dark, not an enemy in sight despite you knowing a few lurked somewhere close.

Jumping down once more, you now stood in front of the firekeeper tower, or at least the OTHER side of it, gate wedged roughly shut. Oddly, you had never ventured to this section of the shrine before, and from the looks of it, you were alone. Upon your last visit, you had used a homeward bone in aggressive haste to escape that man.

There was no light, no torches. You could see nothing other than the sky surrounding the cliffside, and..

An item? Inside the bars, it appeared. Within your haste, you had clearly taken no time to look. Shaking the bars, you figured you could probably loosen them enough to get to whatever things lurked in there.

Perhaps you could--

The sound of a strangled groan emitted behind you, vicious and dying. Before you even had a moment to turn, a firm body was collapsing against your own, forcing you to the ground face first with a yelp.

You thrashed beneath the body but to no avail.

"Lurking again, are you? Well, you're a lucky fella that I caught this crazy sort before he cut you down, my friend!"

A terribly, familiar voice cackled. The body upon you vanished into ash, leaving you upon the ground, face down. An Uchigatana of the proposed attacker clattered beside you.

Your eyes were wide. How had you not heard him? How..

"Not even a thank you these days.", you heard the fiend, your savior, mutter.

Pulling yourself to your feet, you stood before the man, face cast downwards in an attempt to hide your hooded expression. With an evident nod and an almost inaudible mumble of gratitude, you bypassed the bald man, venturing down the unstable steps.

With a calm breath, you were relieved to see that he wasn't intent on bothering you. You'd head back to the shrine--

Gasping obscenely, your ankle twisted on the crumbling steps, foot lodging into a hole that had gave way due to the receding cliff. Scrambling for a hold on anything, your entire body yelped as a firm arm grabbed your own, yanking you back with sheer force.

Tripping over your own two feet at the pull, your armoured body crashed into his own, who, in turn, stumbled backwards against the wall with you in his grasp.

"By the Gods!", he breathed a laugh, "are you blind?", his arm had wrapped around your chest to stable you, and you froze.

He still thought you were male. Glancing up at him awkwardly - he had a few inches of height on you - you paused in realising that he was staring down at you with a most lecherous grin.

Oh. Your hood had come down during the entire ordeal, bearing your blonde locks. With a flustered complexion, you pushed against the mans chest in utter futility, and yet it only made him squeeze tighter around your form.

"Well, now, it isn't often I'm shocked.", he leered at you, head tilting at your embarrassment.

"Release me.", you muttered with a scowl, the undeniable flush upon your cheeks angering you further.

"Oho, she speaks! Well, sweeting, I was certain those Fingers had grabbed your tongue up for themselves.", he mused, eyes sweeping down briefly to take you in as a whole.

You could only glare weakly, flustered at the forced proximity between you two.

And you knew from today, he'd make it his goal to bother you.

\-----------------

And he really did.

Today was unlike the others. Today, you had settled for a more lighter attire, outside of the confines of your usual armour. In truth, it had slipped your mind. You had merely wished to repair said armour before equipping it.

Thus, adorning the comfortable black witch dress that had been gifted to you generously, you sat in a haphazard circle - those who were friendly, and those who weren't - a small, very much antiquated, wooden chess board in the centre.

You had played with the majority of the shrine. Greirat couldn't grasp the concept of most of the pieces, and happily accepted defeat with nary a blow to his pride, humble as he is.

Eygon had scoffed at the idea of games. "You really are within a cesspool of doddering oldfolk. Don't drag me down with you.", he had spat.

Cornyx was surprisingly good at chess, moving the pieces with somewhat of a strategic idea. You had, admittedly, declined when offered to go up against Orbeck. That was a loss you yourself didn't want to witness. The man was smart, and thus agreed to take your place in defeating the entire shrine. He had met his match with Leonhard, oddly.

And now, amidst a circle of laughter, sneering and scoffing, you couldn't help but smile genuinely at the comforting atmosphere, whether it be from someone as cold as Eygon or as sweet as Rhea.

"Greirat, my boy, come sit!", you heard a bellowing Siegward state joyously. Perking up at the sound of your secretly favourite thief, your gaze honed in on the armoured body walking beside him.

"I hope you all don't mind, I brought Patches along.", Greirat sat, crouched small beside the stout catarina knight. There were no qualms amongst the group, save for your own, of course.

The merchant leered at you shamelessly, lips quirking into one of those knife edged smiles of his. With ease, he hefted his spear and shield to the ground, sitting opposite you and far too close for your comfort. "Well, this is a right treat."

You scowled at him. That disgusting man was practically undressing you with his eyes! "Excuse me? How rude." You spat, arms folding in on yourself to shield your admittedly tight fitted dress.

Patches tilted his head eyebrows raised in mock innocence. "The game, darling. What little ol' thoughts were going on in that head of yours?"

You were mortified. Face beating a crimson red, you stuttered and stumbled over pitiful excuses. Moreso when Patches grin seemed to grow at your embarrassment.

The group surrounding you chuckled quietly. You could only scowl at him with little bite to it, eventually tearing your eyes away from his unwavering, smug gaze.

And so the game began.

Who knows how long it had been, honestly. A handful of hours, at least. You had fought your way to the top with ease against Karla, Greirat, Eygon and Yuria. (She had to be invited, unfortunately. You scoffed inwardly)

It was an utter surprise that the game was still going on with an eager audience. You were beyond delighted at this point, a heavy stash of souls sitting within your pouch from your victory over the other Undeads.

Eygon had finally stood with a resigned scoff, mumbling about how foolish the game was, and left with Rhea in tow.

Glancing to your right, it appeared that Siegward, Leonhard, Yuria and Cornyx had participated in their own, hand drawn card game.

And now, with Karla, Patches and Orbeck, you couldn't help but sigh. Patches languidly gazed down at the chess board, an unsurprised quirk of his lips showing as you had yet again won against Karla. "You're a champ at this, aren't you? Snatching up those souls all for yourself.", Patches stated with an odd smile. One you couldn't decipher.

You narrowed your eyes, gripping your pouch tightly. An action which did not escape his eyes. "What of it? These are fairly won souls.", you knew you were defensive and yet you couldn't prevent it.

Patches hummed, finger to lip in a child like thought. Or, more than likely, he was patronising you. "Well, perhaps I ought to have a turn. Give the people a chance to earn back some of your prize, you greedy guts."

You smiled. A dainty, empty little one. Well, if he wanted to be beaten, that was his choice. Inspired by this newfound challenge, you folded your arms comfortably. "And shall we settle on a prize? More than the scraps of souls, I mean." You spoke nonchalantly, eying him with a sharp gaze.

Patches sat, cross legged, upon the other side of the chess board, moving in closely so it was now only you two huddled over the board. "A fine idea, my love. I've got just the prize! Oh, yes, I'm sure you'll love it, even when you lose!", he laughed, all sharp teeth and dangerous smile.

Your eyes bored into his own stubbornly. Sitting within such proximity, the man dwarfed you with his rather wide form, even if he was slim. The bulk of his shoulders stood out the most, and you could admit that without sufficient armour, you felt entirely too small. Feminine. An emotion you had often repressed in a world like this.

Even so, you wouldn't falter under his piercing gaze. With a reluctant nod of his unusual statement, you agreed. "It's settled, then. Shall we reveal our prizes? Its only fair, I'd say."

Patches ever permanent smile only brightened. "Ladies first".

You pursed your lips for a moment in thought. You were sure to win, that much was obvious. But settling on a prize was difficult. You could ask for all his embers. You could even take all his stock that he sells. You could demand he accompany you on your next journey. For the sake of distracting enemies, at least.

Humming within a world of your own, you bit your lip. "My prize will be vengeance.", your lips quirked at his thoughtful expression, "when I win, I'm going to lock you up in that tower. No homeward bones. And then we'll see how you like it! Not to mention the horrible things you did to Siegward.", you glared.

"Lock me up forever, is it?", he mused, unperturbed by such a wish. And then at once, his grin was back. "Brilliant! We think alike, my love. When I win, you'll be trotting off to that tower, too.", he chuckled, dark eyes pinning you to the spot. "With yours truly, of course.", he finished.

Now it was your turn to look bewildered. Why would he want you there with him? You shifted stiffly. "Together? Why? So you can lock me up and laugh at me again?!", you spat.

Patches began placing his chess pieces in orderly fashion upon the board, not at all bothered by your outburst. Before he could even answer, you glared once more.

"The prize can be anything. I say that because I know ill win. I hope you enjoy cold towers. Plenty of women around, right? A mans dream.", you drawled sardonically, copying his words from days ago.

"That it is, my love.", he laughed, and your satisfaction was cut short. He leaned back ever so slightly in genuine thought. "Anything? Well, now, that does change things, doesn't it? Anything in the World.", he mused.

You stared at him as his gaze cast itself to the board in contemplation. His features were sharp, dangerous. So trusting and yet so treacherous.

And then his lecherous smile grew far wider than usual, eyes slitted like daggers. "Alright then, sugar. You got yourself a deal, and ol' Patches doesn't make deals with just anybody! I've got a business to run, you know. But I suppose just this once, ill indulge your greedy game."

You nodded with finality. Patches leaned closer, looming over your short body with dark eyes. "And you DID agree on anything, didn't you?"

You huffed, pushing yourself backwards and away from him. "Yes, yes, anything.", you snapped, rolling your eyes at his constant need for reassurance. "Are we done?"

And then your eyes glanced down to his naked palm, calloused and large, outstretched towards you. "Dont you know how to make a deal? Gods, you are hopeless, aren't you?", he mocked with a laugh, indicating to his hand. "Shake on it, then."

You hesitated. Why did you feel frozen? It was just a hand. It was only a way of settling deals. With a sigh, you allowed his palm to envelope your own in a tight grip, one that did not falter and did not release. "Well, my love, good luck to you. Because if you lose..", he tutted with a lazy shrug, "well, you'll see."

You scoffed at his over confidence and stared down at the chess board. You had the white pieces, you'd make the first move. Let's just see how smug he'll be at the end of this.

\---------------

" _Oh, darling, just look at you! All shattered and broken. Wheres that flame of yours gone?", he laughed._

You couldn't accept defeat. You couldn't.. how could he have won? How?! And you HAD to let him lead you to that bastard tower, of all places, sucking up your utter humiliation after gathering the chess board in your arms and throwing it at the wall in petty anger.

" _Someone's eager to accept defeat!", he chuckled darkly at your weary expression, thighs shaking disgustingly._

Of course this would be his sick plan. You did fight it, but he had only binded you forcefully as you squirmed. Eventually, your fire became doused at his superior strength, and all you could do was glare beneath him.

" _For someone who hated me a moment ago, you really are a greedy guts! Look how well you're sucking them in! "_

It was humiliating and naive, trodding up to the tower behind him, utterly oblivious to his sinister plot. And without your bloody armour and sword, no less. Dressed in a backless, fitted dress - how could you not have seen it coming? Maybe you did. You wasn't sure anymore. All you could focus on was the hyena like laughter of the man as he forced your body into over stimulation in multiple ways.

How long had you been in this tower? You didn't know. All you knew is he was driving you crazy, unhinged. You stood in your slick coated dress pulled up around your middle, wrists attached to the metal bars to ensure no escape.

And he just.. he wouldn't relent. He wouldn't allow you to finish unless you admitted how much you enjoyed his touch. You were beginning to falter in your resolve, lust begging you to give in.

The familiarity of his fingers eased into your sticky lips, parting the flesh in a scissor like motion. "Well, ill admit this, sweets. You are a stubborn one! A tough nut to crack. But you will, in due time. They all do.", he cackled, working his wrist to twist his fingers within you roughly.

"Im unbreakable. Evidently, you are not. Don't take it to heart, my love.", he grinned. You began to shake, eyes lidded and lips parting without your minds consent. As vile and wrong as this was, you couldn't deny how enjoyable it was. To be forcefully bound and teased beyond belief.

You had lost the bet, but..you never would've thought a woman as proud as you would have the fingers of this murdering cretin within you and actually enjoy it.

You willed yourself to stare down at his slightly crouched form, sleeve pulled up to his forearm as his fingers now began thrusting into you deeply, the lewd sounds of lubrication coating his fingers copiously. You bit your lip hard, unwilling to demonstrate any kind of pleasure despite the fire growing within you.

"Oh, look at that! Sucking them right back up. I'm starting to wonder whose in charge here!", he chuckled, curling his long digits within you.

Your legs quaked violently, on the verge of buckling as his fingers rubbed that spot in you which made you crazy. Your lip was bleeding now, rough exhales emitting through your nose as you fought to remain in control.

"You alright there, love? You appear to be struggling a bit.", he hummed mockingly, gazing up at you with darkened eyes. His fingers straightened and began thrusting into you deeply to the knuckles.

Slowly, the man stood, leering down at you with a smirk. He was close, and you could only glare weakly until a moan was torn from your throat, loud and breathless. Your thighs were soaked and shaking, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Given up yet, sweetie? You really ought to. I have ways of making this much more agreeable for your desperate little body.", he indicated down to the fingers wedged inside of you. "That greedy hole in particular."

You flushed crimson, eying his chest in nervous contemplation. There was no use in playing stubborn any longer. He'd never let you go at this rate. The pleasure and desire was so intense, insides pulsing with the need to cum.

"I..Fine. Release me, I yield. But if you don't fuck me soon I'll murder you.", you spat frustratedly, squirming against the bindings with a groan.

"Youre a greedy little thing, aren't you? Take and take, but you never give." He sighed, undoing the tight rope around your wrists with a cut of a knife. "Well, my love, you know what to do. Get into position like the whore I know you are."

You blinked at him timidly. You weren't about to argue with that. With a swift movement, you settled your hands and knees upon the cold floor, glancing back at him with an expression you hoped was confident.

Patches gazed at you for a moment, taking in the curve of your hips and ass, to the sopping centre between your thighs. And then he smiled, shaking his head with a huff of laughter as he settled behind you.

With a rustle of leather, you soon felt the hot tip of his cock against your centre, nudging its way between your lips. His firm hands settled upon your hips, holding you tight. "Bet you're glad you lost now, you dirty thing." And with a smooth thrust he was within you to the hilt.

It knocked the breath out of you. You hadn't had a man in years. Patches tore through your tight hole with no remorse, forcing your body to mold to him as he groaned lowly behind you.

The stretch and burn was welcomed after the immeasurable amount of time he spent edging you. With a high pitched whine, you pushed yourself back against him, your oozing fluids soothing your burning insides in an instant. "Oh, God.."

You could hear the man cackling behind you, no doubt mocking you, but you hardly cared. With a frustrated push back of your ass, you sighed delightedly as the man finally took to giving you exactly what you wanted.

Well, you didn't want it, but now you do. Confusing, but you hardly cared. Hands gripping into the cold stone below you, your mouth hung open in long groans and exhales of exertion as he pulled out only to slam back in deliciously, your dress tugged up obscenely to bare everything. You only hoped nobody ventured up here.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing hate, darling, when you're wrapped so tightly around me.", Patches chuckled with a depth to his tone, palms smoothing along your hips until he grabbed them once more and began fucking into you almost brutally.

You cried out, head lolled forward as the man behind you had all control of your movements. You could only stay in position and take it, and oh were you loving it. His cock hit deeply, right against your cervix, each thrust having you yelping and whining.

"G-gods, don't stop!", you cried. How long had it been since you felt such a feeling? And this man, as despicable as he is, had the ability to make you see stars. Your insides were curling and twisting pleasantly, ready to explode.

Patches grunted, sturdy hips smacking against the soft flesh of your ass repeatedly. He could feel your velvety insides spasming, clenching him and eating him up. "I'll give you this one, my love. If only for the courtesy of having my cock buried within something so exquisite. Much better than a full purse or pouch of souls!"

You whined at his words, a flare of arousal blasting through you like white hot fire at his description of you. You writhed desperately, your pussy feeling like it was about to gush. Hands upon your waist gripped you bruisingly hard, almost as a warning, and you couldn't help the pleased mewl that left your lips.

It felt so good, you thought in mind numbing pleasure. Deeper, you needed him to wreck you, cum within you, you needed him to..to control you and you didn't know where or why these feelings came about. To fully surrender had never felt so liberating.

"A filthy mouth for such a stone souled woman at the beginning!", he cackled. Oh fuck, had you said all of that out loud in your pleading tone? You flushed scarlet, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation.

"Loosened you, have I, love? And not only that spiteful tongue of yours, by the looks of it.", he emphasised with a sharp grind of his hips into your sopping hole, causing you to moan wantonly against him.

"Well, aright then. Let Patches take care of that unbearable itch you have. Soak my cock like the good little knight that you are, obedient and all, and I'll fill you exactly like you wanted! Naughty woman.", he cackled deeply, and you could practically feel his dagger edged grin slicing into you maliciously.

The pounding was merciless. Slapping skin and lewd, wet noises resounded in the firekeeper tower, your cries no doubt reaching the outside of the shrine where Patches usually dwelled.

You gasped, cried out his name in utter bliss as your body contorted and tensed, writhing within his hold until the dam burst and you were flooding the floor with a sharp splatter of juices. Your legs quivered uncontrollably, a harsh inhale of breath making you feel dizzy as in an instant it was exhaled into a glorious cry at your climax.

You felt muscleless, euphoric. Utterly illogical, but caring seemed to be the farthest thing away from your thoughts. With an elongated groan from behind you and a tightened grip on your hips, you felt the long forgotten feeling of being filled by a man, warmth and delightful stickiness oozing into you as your pussy pulsed as though gulping down every drop.

With a satisfied, soft sigh, you waited until he had retrieved himself before lifting yourself on shaky limbs.

As expected, the man had a grin sharp enough to kill. You blushed, tugging your soaked dress down your quaking thighs with a scowl. "Dont look at me like that."

Patches shrugged languidly, tucking himself into his leathers and making a show of wiping your dried lubrication from off of his fingers. "Dont you go mouthing off to me, now. We both know you loved it.", he laughed, righting himself as he led himself to the metal barred exit.

"Best be off, sweeting. I've got a business to run, you know. You could be losing me valuable cash!", he chastised lightly, eyes flickering down to your shaking form with a slow smirk. "I'll let you off this time. You know where to find me, darling.", he spared you one last stare, head to toe with those dark, sinister eyes, before exiting the tower altogether.

You stared, dazed. How dare he! The nerve of that bastard.

But he was right. Even if you'd never admit it, you knew where he lurked, and you knew you'd seek him out one day.

Perhaps when your pride didn't feel so damaged.

Smoothing down your dress gently, you straightened your spine and returned to the shrine with as much poise and confidence as you could muster.

You decided then and there that leaving for a few days would do you good, otherwise you'd die on the spot at the mocking snickering Eygon offered you with an evident inspection of your form.

Even the firekeeper wouldn't look your way, a delicate hand shielding her smile.

How humiliating, you groaned.  
  
  
  


  
  
  



	9. Abysswatchers - f/m (very noncon/rape)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were the last of your kind. A pure Darkwraith, untainted by power and greed. The world was ready for darkness to reign, and you were the designated usurper. 
> 
> Tackling the abysswatchers proved to be a challenge. It was only when their souls formed into an amalgamation of one true, abysswatcher Lord that you realised..
> 
> This beast of a man wasn't letting you go until he was fully satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W A R N I N G: mostly vaginal rape, brief anal rape. Vomiting. Blood. Violence. Technically temporary suicidal thoughts.
> 
> \---------------‐------------------
> 
> This is WAAY darker than the other fics. I made my way through the story in segments. I knew I wanted a Darkwraith female and I knew I wanted the usurpation of fire ending. 
> 
> The rape got thrown in the mix. I didn't enjoy the idea of the Darkwraith leaving the abysswatchers unscathed and undamaged, or happy and giddy at a big orgy (i know some of you were probs waiting for that so soz)
> 
> SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE RAPE DONT READ ITTT. 
> 
> AND, if you wish to see scenarios with characters, let me know. That way, I can stick to YOUR story and you'll be happy~ but if u like random then fuck it ill make up some scenarios! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. I enjoyed writing this. The element of despair was mainly used for rising above the trauma and ushering in a new era of darkness as the new Lord. It just.. felt right. 
> 
> Anyway thank you ❤

☆Abysswatchers☆  
\-------------------------------

The wretched structure of the abysswatchers stood in full view. It had taken time, patience and sanity, but you were finally here. You, and whichever Darkwraith stood beside you - you no longer knew if they were hollowed or not - marched onward clad in the telltale black armour and skull helmet which induced nightmares to many. 

New Londo was gone. Your brothers and sisters of the Darkwraith covenant were gone. Kaathe refused to give you his audience. The serpent had disappeared along with the other serpents. Not a single one had been sighted in..you couldn't remember anymore. 

The rise and fall of kingdoms began to muddle your mind. The rise and fall of YOU began to make little sense now. There was a time when the only Abysswalker was the ancient legend, Artorias. Regretfully, a time far too early for your memories to make sense. 

There was a time when Darkwraiths thrived on ending the artificial, sickening Age of Fire. Establishing a new age of dark, honing ones true humanity. Ridding of all those over zealous Gods who did more harm than good. 

But Kaathe was right. They had all failed him. Succumbed to either a life of greed or power. Very few remained on the righteous path, the one intended to renew humanity. And now, the imbalance of the world was catastrophic. 

Even still, perhaps some good could be done. Here. Now. Destroying the Abysswatchers could allow the world to usher in a new dark, free of curse and despair. Why these people fight it, you'll never know. You had heard that one deserted whilst his brothers descended into chaos. 

A pathetic, disloyal choice, but one that was logical all the same. A life damned to fighting the abyss - it sounded soul shattering. And while Artorias can be commended for his work, so very long ago, it was a pity that these mindless followers of his were destined to be a Lord of Cinder.

If not for that, you'd have left them alone. Leave them to aimlessly fight the abyss for all eternity, if they must. That wasn't your issue. The abyss WAS abhorrent, unnatural. However, becoming a Lord of Cinder changes everything.

They needed to die. Their souls could not be used to fuel the artificial, damnable flame. There was no choice. Unkindled be damned, you had slaughtered many of those eccentric ash, fighting for the Lord souls. And you'd continue to end them, until dark prevailed. 

For now, your eyes were set on the grand door to the abysswatchers location, the sharp clanging of metal resounding from within, with angered or desperate voices of the sane ones attempting to soothe their brothers, allow sanity to mend itself. 

You scoffed. With luck, they'd be hollow soon. You will cut down the entire group if its the last thing you do. You'll shatter their soul into fragments, and then never will an unkindled light the fire. The very thought felt treasonous to you. It was sickening, watching the dead rise into crumbling humans with no recollection of their past. 

Cities thrived. But it was all temporary. The fire fades, and all is crushed once more. Ushering an era of darkness would allow the humans to flourish. Rid of all the sinister, controlling God's. Banish them of their power. Humanity will reign. 

\---------------

You yourself was not entirely sure why you were here. You had lived for many years, thousands perhaps. Did you die, somewhere along the way? Were you unkindled, too? An ironic thought. Though the firekeeper refused to acknowledge your presence, casting her sightless gaze to the ground. No doubt because of your treachery to her own cause. 

You didn't feel a murmur of doubt, giving her those eyes. The eyes of truth and reality. Eyes that shattered through the very illusion of the man-made fire. Perhaps, an ounce of sympathy ignited within you at her desperate fear of such a reality. 

After all, her entire life was based upon keeping bonfires lit and ushering unkindled onto a most aimless path. Even still, she was on your cause now. Whether willingly or not. 

Yuria and the pilgrim had proclaimed you Lord, in some fashion. It seemed fitting. Power was not your goal, however. Merely ending this tourtous cycle of fire was your lifes desire. And it will come to be. 

"I am no Lord," you had spoken.

"And that is exactly why you should be Lord. A pure Darkwraith, untainted by greed and insanity. For that, we will follow you.", Yuria had proclaimed with a deep bow. "There is still yet time to please Kaathe, and end the tyranny of old Gods. There is naught anybody but you who we trust more, our Lord and Liege."

You had no argument for that. 

So be it. 

And now, with odorous muck and poison tainting you from the treacherous Farron Keep, you could only stare ahead, revived from your memories, and gaze upon the dead bodies of oddly shaped goat headed abominations littering the floor in heaps. 

You were alone now. You supposed the poison, travel and fight against these freaks of nature had finally shattered the Darkwraiths sanity to pieces. He collapsed into a heap, hand reaching feebly for the Abysswatchers door. With a pitiful groan, no doubt a last breath of regret, he vanished into ash, and then, nothing. Gone. 

You kneeled down, rubbing the faint remnants of ash with your armoured fingertip. Hands brushing souls and cracked red eye orbs, you retrieved them and stored them away. You'd make the spirits of the Darkwraiths proud. 

No matter what it takes.

You stood before the colossal door, the cacophonic clashing of swords growing louder. It was time. 

Pushing the door open roughly, you stormed in with your blade raised offensively. Slaughter them quick, and move on. 

There were bodies everywhere. So many corpses that it stunk of blood, guts and shit. You smiled, at least these mindless bastards made it easier for you. There were at least 30 deceased men upon the floor in heaps, as though piled recklessly.

Standing before you were 4 Abysswatchers, swords dangling limply in their hands as they stared at your opposing form.

Blood littered their entire being, sinking into their red capes almost as though death was destined for them. An appropriate colour, you thought.

"Darkwraith.", you heard one mutter darkly, an abyssal-like snarl emitting from his mouth. They were dwindling, and their eyes were piercing red through their helmets.

You stood tall, stalking towards them with confidence. "Youre dead men walking", you scoffed, your dark hand twitching with power. "Lay down your swords and succumb to it. Ill end you swiftly."

"Darkwraith scum!", one spat, hacking up blood as he coughed. "And a woman at that.", he growled, gripping at his helmet desperately for a semblance of sanity. 

And then all 4 were upon you in an instant, a synchronised effort born from endless training. You scoffed, these men were skeletons, and you were invigorated by the souls of your enemies and previous Lords you had ended. 

"So be it. I will end the malformed fire, and retrieve that treacherous soul within you!"

\-----------------

The battle was brutal. Clashing of swords and spewing of abyssal sludge was a common ritual between the battle, the men were faltering, dying, and yet they did not relent. 

It had taken time, and you had almost died. But you would not be put down so easily. With the four men still standing, bloodied and limp, you charged at them ferociously. 

Unexpectedly, the group released an ear splitting shriek, one which was beastial, and the sudden explosion of fire had you falling through the air until you landed in a far corner with a pained gasp. 

The attack was clearly the last ounce of strength all 4 could offer. You felt blood seep through the large gash in your armour, crossing from your stomach, hip and thigh with the odorous scent of burning flesh. 

You cried out, nose and mouth full of blood as you tugged the offending helmet off for an ounce of air, the metal clanging to the floor. 

Fire surrounded you, as though in mockery. It circled you viciously, and upon looking up, a large, fearsome abysswatcher stood, an aura of utter hate and anger permeating the air. Had they fused? It appeared so. His eyes were crimson red as they looked down upon you

So this was the true Lord of the Abysswatchers, an amalgamation of their souls morphing into one to create the ultimate Lord soul. You scowled, wiping the blood from your nose. Of course they'd have to fuse to truly be powerful enough to be deemed worthy, you thought.

And then this over sized man was upon you, forcing your form to the ground with a crack of concrete as flames danced off of him maliciously. You growled and kicked your feet, writhed violently with all your might. Their combined strength far exceeded your own. 

You were going to die. You had no doubt about that. You were out of estus, your sword was out of reach and your vitals were bared to this beastial man from the explosion. You did not fear this reality. You will revive, and you will continue to hunt them down until they are but dust in the wind. 

You stared indignantly up at the towering man, his thighs digging into your own with his full body weight as his hands pushed roughly at your shoulders into the ground. 

You closed your eyes. You wouldn't give him - them - the satisfaction of witnessing pain in your eyes. 

The scream that tore through your throat startled even you as the combination of men into one gripped at your midsection with uncontrollable strength and ripped your Darkwraith torso piece off in one, baring your naked form beneath. 

"Kill me honorably, you bastards!", you spat, "Desecrate me and I'll cut you cock to throat, you lowly swine!", you roared with reproach, thrashing to the point of pain.

The humongous form above you didn't budge. Large hand moving lower, he dented the greaves of your armour and tore them off. The misshapen metal cut into your skin painfully, causing you to grit your teeth with a barely contained hiss. 

The vile Lord didn't give you anytime to recover. With a vicious snarl, your breast bindings were torn off so harshly his gauntlets cut your skin. Your immodest cloth was the next to go, baring you in the most vulnerable way a woman could ever be seen. Especially when beneath this monster. 

Sneering, your lip pulled back in revulsion at what he was about to do. You were logical, there was no way out of this. But you'd fight. Hooking back an arm, you attempted to smash the male in the face with your fist, only to have it grabbed in an iron grip and forced to the ground so hard you were sure he'd broken your wrist. 

You couldn't stifle the cry this time. It tore through your lips harshly, eyes wide in undeniable fear. "Get off of me! You rotten miscreant of a man!" You screamed to the point that your throat felt dry and pained. 

Gripping your both hands in one of his, he bared his entire weight upon your palms as his free hand moved to..

You grimaced. This was truly going to happen, and no amount of screaming was going to save you. 

The giant of a man gurgled with abyssal influence, it seemed, a hand moving down to his leathers and retrieving a hefty, heavy cock that seemed to strain the more you fought him. 

Your eyes widened. No, you couldn't allow this, you couldn't..! 

With a shriek, your hands managed to dislodge from his own in pure terror, your muscles over working themselves to flee. Clawing at the blood and carcass filled ground, you gripped at stray rocks as you swiveled yourself onto your knees, cleanly slipping from beneath him as you scrambled from a crawl into a full blown run. 

You didn't make it far.

The Abysswatcher smashed into you from behind, forcing himself upon your body until your naked form crashed into the ground with tremendous, mind numbing pain. 

You wailed, nose crunching against the stone floor with a splatter of blood. Your entire front was cut and bruised, your forehead bleeding from the impact of the ground. 

Your head tugged back violently at the grip in your hair, your spine arching unnaturally. You felt unwanted hands palming your hips and ass disgustingly, lifting you into position with such a strong hold you could feel your bones quiver. 

"No, no! Stop it! Dont you dishonor me like this, you mindless fiend!", you screamed, nails piercing into the rocks below you. Your chest heaved, your lower body thrashed and kicked to prevent him access to your insides. 

The abysswatcher snarled, a hand on your head to force your face into the dirt and blood of the floor as you felt him position himself behind you. 

Tears flooded your vision in a blurry haze as the giant of a man thrusted into your dry centre, his length rigid and slimy with precum. He was huge, you felt as though your core was getting pulverised and torn.

Your labia burned, your cervix felt bruised to the point of nausea as he hammered into you at an erratic pace, your body scraping across the floor from the violence of his thrusts. You couldn't breathe. The pain tore through you like a sword to the gut. 

The man was big enough to feel as though he was piercing your very abdomen, pulverising your insides to the point of bleeding. You screamed yourself hoarse, tears falling rapidly down your blood tarnished face.

"S-stop, no more, it d-doesnt fit!", you whimpered weakly, mucus and spit soaking your face in disgusting amounts. This man was utterly gargantuan, with the combined souls of 4 men. 

The abysswatcher howled maniacally like a beast, voice distorted and low. "Darkwraith whore.", he - or they - growled. Tugging you roughly by the hair, the man stood and dragged you up with him.

You wailed and gripped at your hair tightly to prevent the fierce tug of his hand upon it. With a tremendous reel back of his arm, he threw you to the ground in a heap, your back slamming into the concrete with a choked gasp. 

A second later, he was upon you once more, legs between your own as he gripped his vile length in hand and forced it into your battered insides once more. You cried out in pain, refusing to meet the bastards eyes as he gazed down at you and groaned filthily. 

Your body began to self lubricate almost forcefully, attempting to ease the stretching burn of his invading length, but to no avail. Gripping at your hips, he abused your body like a rag doll, forcing you in up and down motions upon his sword-like cock as it pierced into you with every thrust. 

You writhed and cried, spat at his face with such abhorrence you were blinded by it. You bit at the hands that often grabbed your face, your mind set on tearing chunks out of it if he ever got too close. 

Your heel kicked at his back as hard as you could, jolts of pain travelling up through your leg in bursts. You snarled even as the tears obstructed your vision or burned your cheeks from the sheer amount. 

He did not relent. Would not relent. His thick, unyielding appendage ravaged you like an animal, heavy balls slapping revoltingly against your ass and thighs, it had you gagging.

"You are as lowly as the shit on the ground! Artorias did not fight the abyss for his followers to descend and enact such violation! You are nothing! You will all die, perish, forgotten--"

A blinding crack of a hand to the face had your head lolling back in a daze, fresh blood cascading from your nose up to your eyes due to gravity. Your eyes were beginning to swell, your lips were cut, and your nose was broken. You couldn't breathe, gasping erratically for breath through your mouth. 

You were beginning to feel numb. The large man above you moaned sickeningly, body tensing and vile appendage pulsing within you to announce his impending orgasm. 

A violent shudder wracked your form at the thought. It will be over soon, you told yourself. Even as you shivered and screamed, you knew the end was nigh. You knew you'd end him and this entire, pathetic group for good. Youd shatter his soul with your very teeth and piss on the corpses. You'd desecrate them just as they desecrated you. 

You didn't think it could get worse.

But it did.

And now, you were fighting back vomit as you were thrown onto your bruised hands and knees, cock prodding your other virgin hole. You gasped and jolted, shaking your head furiously. "Not there. Anywhere but there, please..!" You begged.

The abysswatcher amalgamation released a deafening, abyssal cackle. You felt the gut wrenching slick of his spit upon your unused hole before his precum drenched cock forced its way into your ass.

You howled. There was no pain greater than this. Your voice had approached a tone so high pitched it had your throat hoarse. With effort, the man had to physically push his body against you to force his long length within you fully. 

And how the tears fell in wracking sobs. You begged, pleaded, wailed in pain, but to no avail. 

The abysswatcher began to moan, hips so flush against your ass you could feel his balls twitching. You dry heaved against the ground, mouth open in a permanent scream as copious amounts of saliva and mucus cascaded down to your chin and throat. 

Your inner thighs were an utter mess. You could feel thick globs of lubrication and blood mingling into a vile concoction of fluids. 

The abysswatcher was loud now, using your body for all its worth as he pummeled into you as hard as he could. You were a cocksleeve, a sheath, and he made sure you felt just as useless as such a thing. 

The closer his climax approached, the more violent he became. Clumps of hair were torn from your head in an ear splitting screech, your sphincter muscles bleeding from the large intrusion of the Lords cock. 

You were coughing up puddles of saliva now. The man was in so deep he was surely battering your intestines - the very thought had you vomiting a mess upon the floor, gasping for breath.

He was so large. Youd rather die than endure anymore of this. This was wrong. This was sacrilegious upon your very body, so much smaller and human sized. The brutality of it all had your mind turning stone cold. 

Eventually, your bruised cheek lay in a puddle of your own vomit, tears and blood as he fucked you to completion. 

With a long moan, you finally felt the cancerous seed of the male seep deep into your gut, churning up your insides. It curdled like milk within alcohol, and as he retrieved himself with a satisfied groan you could feel the damage done to your body. 

You were bleeding. Most certainly from your ass. Your abdomen felt pulverised. 

You couldn't move. You might as well just die now. You were ruined. Beaten. Violated. 

He had his head in his hands, no doubt from his, or their, sanity dwindling even further. The glint of metal caught your eye.

You took your chance. You dragged yourself across the floor on your stomach, aiming for the exit. 

You could already hear the thundering footsteps of the abysswatcher gaining upon you. 

He forced your body onto its back, bearing his weight upon you once more. 

But he stopped. Frozen. 

You saw the trickle of blood dribble through his mask and onto your lips and neck.

Glancing down, you watched his own sword pierce through his gut and out of his back. The sword held within your hand. He had left it amongst the floor during the entire scuffle. 

You chuckled. "Thought you could force me into round two, did you?"

He was beginning to fade, gurgling on his own blood as he reached out to grab you, only to fall limp against the sword. His eyes were ablaze with anger and vehemence.

You laughed. 

He was choking now. The blood must've filled his lungs or he was simply draining of far too much blood. The slits in his masks revealed a dazed expression, misted eyes peering sightlessly at you.

You cackled. With a withering breath, he collapsed upon you, and yet the maniacal laughter did not relent. Your entire body wracked itself with it.

Tears blurred your vision once more as you laughed. Those damnable miscreants were dead! 

Soon, with struggle, your limping, battered form stood above the humongous body, twice your height and twice as wide at least.

You gazed down with cold eyes, sword in hand. Without a blink, your sword pierced into the carcass of the man over and over until he was a bloodied mess. It sliced him and gutted him until your hearts content. 

You physically tore his insides open, cracked his ribcage and forced your hand through the disgusting maze of organs and gushing blood until your hand squeezed around something which oozed of strength.

Ripping your limb out with a trail of guts banding around you like a bracelet, you grinned at the Lord Soul within your hand.

They could not break you. And now, you would be the new Lord of Darkness. 

Ripping and cutting the red cape cloth from their bodies, you wrapped it around yourself as a makeshift rag, covering your vitals. 

You returned to the shrine and was tended to kindly. 

The entire building was soon burned to ash, and the deserter, Hawkood, you came to know, had no qualms about such an act. 

\------------

You stood in a world of darkness, the mantle of Lords doused to nothing but ash as your stoic form left the remnants of the old gods in the past. The Lord of Cinder lay in a heap at your feet. He deserved an honourable death, and thus you gave him one at the end of the battle, neck sliced for a quick death.

Pilgrim's kneeled outside of the Cinders old resting place. Anri, your spouse, kneeled, sword at his side as he gazed up at you loyally. Yuria kneeled with her two sisters at her side. A trio of the sable church.

The inhabitants of firelink shrine kneeled. 

"Our Lord and Liege. I prithee play the usurper." Yuria proclaimed in a voice which reached far and wide. All hollows watched on eagerly, hands clasped or eyes merely fixated.

"The Old Gods are no more, and the all-powerful fire deserveth a new heir.  
Our Lord of Hollows, it shall be, who weareth the true face of mankind.", she finished with a dignified bow in your direction.

You stood in a world without fire. A world free of despair and curse. The time had come.

You couldn't help the faintest quirk of your lips beneath your helmet. The Lords were dead. The twin princes were spared, having sworn allegiance to your cause and refusing to link the flame.

And now you reigned. 

Fire, would be but a distant memory. 

Along with your despair. 

If only they could see you now. 

You were unbreakable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know..
> 
> The usurpation of fire is the best ending 😏 fuck the flame. And fuck yuria too. I only added her because I HAD TO.
> 
> I will, however, continue to praise the sun even when it is gone \\[T]/ \\[T]/ \\[T]/ bless the orange bois 🧡🧡


	10. Inexperienced Artorias/ experienced Ornstein (m/m)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although Ornstein didn't know it at the time, it seemed the boy who became a man would eventually grow on him.
> 
> He didn't expect their friendship to get so far. Nor expect to receive such..unusual requests from Artorias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a lot of talking. But still, hope you all enjoy. I made Ornstein kinda clinical and cold about teaching artorias 'lessons'. Idk, seemed hot
> 
> Keep the requests coming~

☆Artorias/Ornstein☆  
\----------------------------------

"It is with great joy and pride that I knight thee Artorias, under the permission and governance of Lord Gwyn, as a seasoned warrior worthy of entitlement, and befitting of a role only scarce few will ever obtain.", a towering knight glad in the very golden rays of the sun pronounced richly, deeply, his authoritative voice resounding throughout the grand Hall of the Palace. 

Silver knights stood in formation, as solid as steel and as attentive as one could ever be. The Lords Blade and the Hawkeye giant stood at his either side dutifully. 

Gwyn and his children sat at the forefront of the hall upon golden seats befitting of Gods, nary an ounce of imperfection as they all composed themselves with the utmost grace. 

A feast, gargantuan and full of exotic dishes, sat in the centre of the hall. Dishes that even Artorias himself could not name wafted through the air enticingly. Though, in truth, he was a man born from poverty. He hadn't seen much of the world, let alone tasted it.

And now, before him stood the very legendary Dragonslayer himself, bestowing him with his lifes most ultimate honor. Swallowing, the dark haired knight was simply pleased that his blackened visor upon his new, individually crafted and personal armour shrouded his face. 

"I knight thee, Ser Artorias, in the name of The Lord of Sunlight, to uphold and defend your land and your God. To lead and to fight, to swear allegiance solely to your kingdom and the Great Lord.", the Captains speech was solid, unwavering, and Artorias could only gaze on with anticipation gnawing at his stomach. 

"Rise, Ser Artorias, and cometh forth. You will serve, fight, defend, and die for the Kingdom of God's. You will govern men with an iron fist, an unbendable will and a courageous heart.", the Lion Knight proclaimed in a tone as deep and as thick as smooth honey. The entire hall had their eyes fixated upon him like flies to the sweet nectar. Artorias, too, felt the same. 

"Cometh forth, and accept the greatest gift of all, the true medal of honor. For now, with this very soul shard from our Lord of Sunlight, I bequeath thee, Artorias, and humbly gift you its sustenance, to invigorate and bond you to Lord Gwyn's cause, eternally."

Artorias stood tall in front of the Captain. He was sweating, his palms quivering as the thunderous footsteps of Gwyn walked with an air of unfathomable strength, standing before him. "I commend thee, Ser Artorias, and forever shall I call upon you in times of dire need.", his voice boomed like thunder. 

Then, leaning close, the Lord quirked his lip briefly in a display of uncharacteristic, but not unheard of, friendliness. "Discomfort is expected, but I suspect you can handle it.", he murmured as his palm opened out to reveal a Sunlight-esque shard of his soul. Artorias returned the smile with a nod, albeit nervously, and stood tall. 

His Lord was correct. Partly. The pain of intertwining ones soul with that of a Gods was agonising. His chest erupted into flames for a split second, until only cool remnants remained. The surge of power through his veins was electrifying and dizzying, but he had never felt more pride in his life. 

The hall erupted into roars of cheer and praise, the Firstborn at the front and shaking his far too sweaty palm in a rough handshake. Artorias repressed a sheepish smile and bowed deeply to the Firstborn with a practised expression of polite stoicism, even if his expression was shrouded.

Descending onto one knee, he held a fist to his chest in honor, an emotion he felt with the utmost genuinty. "There is no greater gift a man could receive. I am eternally grateful, my Lord."

The boisterous, over powering laugh of Gwyn rattled the entire hall. "As you should be. Come, feast until your hearts content.", the God pulled him up with a rough, masculine tug. With a clap on the back, Gwyn retreated back towards his family. 

Artorias was shaking. He felt like he'd pass out at any moment from nerves, but they were welcome all the same. Removing his helmet in light of the celebration, he was relieved to have such a formal event finally over. 

Glancing towards his Captain, the man who led an entire army under Gwyn, the man who remained stoic in the face of catastrophic dragons and ignited fear in every knight, Artorias couldn't help but feel nerve wracked at even approaching the man, let alone working in close quarters with him from now on. 

"Celebrate, boy! It'll be the only chance you get, mark my words. Drink and feast until you burst.", the Firstborn shouted gruffly with a laugh. He had most definitely acquired such brash volume from his father, Gwyn. 

The God of War was the more..daring type, out of the Godly family. He spoke his mind, whether in good will or in vulgar, impolite words to turn even the knights a shade of crimson.

"My apologies, Lord.", Artorias spoke swiftly, feeling as though he appeared rude, though was cut off by an uncharacteristic snort from the Captain, who had been listening with his arms crossed against his broad chest.

The Firstborn chuckled with a shake of his head, wrapping an arm around the Captain in a brother-like manner. "The boy is nervous, my Lord. Don't pester him.", Ornstein chastised lightly with a slight nudge to the taller Gods frame.

The Firstborn grinned widely. It was no surprise that these Gods were named after Sunlight. His smile was dazzling. Artorias swallowed and reciprocated a small, meek smile. 

"Worry not, Ornstein. The nerves will be beaten out of him soon whilst under your care, im sure.", he chuckled into the large ale cup he had grabbed from a passing servant. 

"The night is young, Artorias. A man as esteemed as you has a wide array of women to choose from. Though, with those boyish looks of yours, I'm sure each corner of your bed is occupied. And rightly so." The Firstborn had the gall to wink. Artorias' face flamed at such an accusation and he faltered somewhat under the bluntness of this man. 

To hear the tall, terrifying Captain openly laugh was..perhaps the most shocking event of the evening. The Firstborn smirked mischievously at the utter bewilderment upon Artorias' face, raising his perfectly sculptured, white eyebrows suggestively. "Do leave some for the rest of us, boy.", he joked lightly, nudging Artorias in the side enough to make him stumble lightly.

Artorias gaped. Was his Lord being serious? He..he hadn't even touched a woman before. Was his presence now suddenly offensive? Was he TRULY attracting unwanted attention from women? Eyes darting about for a moment, Artorias faltered, confused, as his hands began to wring together in discomfort. "I, ah..i-i apologise for the inconvenience. I-"

"Goodness, leave the poor boy alone. He has enough on his plate and does not need the likes of you two teasing him.", came a feminine, strict tone. Glancing down, Artorias could hardly believe he was in the presence of the Lords Blade Ciaran. Firm and as sharp as a poisonous dagger.

The Firstborn and the Captain chuckled and began an amiable conversation with the unimpressed assassin. Artorias felt like face palming. They were obviously joking, then. How had someone as gullible as him ended up being one of the four knights?

Artorias sighed. Well, the food looked good. Other than his embarrassment killing his appetite, the Firstborn was right. He should enjoy himself and appreciate the feast. 

Little did he know, that a lifelong friendship was formed from that very day. 

***********

And little did the Captain know that Artorias would prove to be a soft, irritating thorn in his side in the best way possible. 

There was not a single man who could wield a Greatsword and Greatshield like Artorias. Nor a man, excluding that eccentric Ledo, who had to visit the Giant Blacksmith and request an even bigger set of weaponry, twice. The Giant eventually surmised that a Greatsword the length of a human male would suffice. It did. 

There was not a single man who could, miraculously, withstand the abyss like him, or defeat it. 

There was not a single man who was more humble than him, even if Gough was a close second. 

And yet, through the countless years of fighting side by side, living within close quarters, training and witnessing the boy become a man of unfathomable prowess, skill, sheer strength and the god sent ability to lead with an iron will and care for his troops, Ornstein couldn't believe that the man was simply.. 

Terrible at talking to women. Not just terrible - ghastly. The second hand embarrassment washing over the Captain had him rubbing his temples in genuine stress with the over whelming desire to flee the natural hot springs they sat within.

Anor Londo was a city of liberty and class. Having the title of Captain had its perks. Namely, the entire hot spring gifted to him and his 3 knights. Private maids tended to the area politely, offering beverages and fruit. Ornstein was never one for frivolities, however, and often sent them off to tend to somewhere else.

The spring was blessed by the Goddess, Gwynevere, to heal and mend wounds, or simple aches. Often times, on particularly uneventful days, Ornstein allowed entrance to knights he was closest with, other than his 3 companions.

Or, like today, the Firstborn had invited himself with a band of giggling maidens in suit. Ornstein rolled his eyes, the man relished in the attention. Not that he minded. The spring was gargantuan with the space to fit hundreds of men. In times of needed tranquility, one could easily be alone. 

And Ornstein was certainly no stranger to women. He simply cared little for pointless interactions, as of late. The maids knew to leave him be, anyhow. He was not one famous for indulging in the sexes. Regardless, to witness the youngest of the Four Knights fumble his way over words to a petite little woman, while easily possessing the power to destroy the abyss, was mind blowing. 

Artorias did not have his priorities in check, Ornstein thought. How could a man wield such a devastatingly heavy weapon with one arm, as though it were a mere branch, and then struggle like a child around the first utterance of a woman half his size?

Perhaps Artorias wasn't into women as much as the Captain thought. He had witnessed the wolf knight receive countless propositions from men, though all were rejected. Anor Londo was an open minded city, sex was highly integrated into the society. The bodies of male and female were recognised, understood and appreciated. 

If Artorias truly DID prefer men, it would hardly come as a surprise to Ornstein. Even if he did have the inkling that the man preferred both sexes.

It was a a tickle of inky hair upon his arm that had his bleary vision returning once more from his thoughts. Artorias sat at his side beneath the pool of bubbling, hot water, hair as black as the abyss swirling at his side. Not as long as the Captains, but close. 

Artorias had that idyllic expression upon his face, sharp features perpetually neutral. His eyebrows were far more docile than his own, and it gave him an an overall look of soft contemplation rather than unapproachable and stoic, like Ornstein.

Whilst it was true that Ornstein was captain, and therefore above all knights, Artorias was a dear friend to him. It wasn't often that Ornstein was able to let his sense of professionalism drop. Thus, with a sharp sweep of the hot spring, he couldn't help but notice the amount of prying eyes on the two. 

"You seem troubled."

Artorias shrugged half heartedly, reminiscent of a child, and lifted himself above water somewhat to allow for conversation. "A tad."

Artorias shifted, and Ornstein took that as their cue to leave. "Surely not anything to do with you bumbling like a fool to a couple of women?", the snide remark had Artorias pursing his lips as his towering form stood alongside his Captain.

It was mortifying how much attention their half naked bodies gathered. The Captain demonstrated an air of nonchalance, but Artorias felt..preyed upon, almost. Shifting rather swiftly, the two led themselves out of the hot spring with towel wrapped firmly around their trimmed waists. 

"Well, that may have something to do with it, yes. I don't know why I bother, honestly. I'm much better off alone", he smiled, as though unperturbed by such an idea, and then fondly added, "with animals. And perhaps you, Ciaran and Gough."

Ornstein didn't spare the melodramatic man a glance as he was already half dressed, albeit soaked, within the private changing rooms. The loose tunic he adorned was thankfully comfortable. "Im flattered." Ornstein deadpanned. 

Soon, the two departed towards their private living area, shared by all 4. Ornstein had a tremendous amount of free time today, and thus would slink back into his office, door locked, as he finishes up on the piles of reports sent to him by locals and knights.

Each report would always be read thoroughly. His mind sharpened and highlighted any words that resembled 'dragon' or 'abyss'. Those would be rearranged into the 'urgent' pile. Otherwise, most were mere requests politely asking for supplies, weapons. Or the occasional, noble invitation that he, unfortunately, was tasked with reading before handing to Gwyn.

Although it was the Lords job to oversee such..frivolity, Gwyn had waved off the mere idea of reading what is most likely nonsense. "Unless it is of interest, burn it." He had stated nonchalantly. 

'Of interest' typically referred to 'as ruler, only tell me if it is my job to attend'. He couldn't blame the man. Social standards had conjured up a considerable amount of pointless soft rules. 

"Captain, I need to talk to you." A faraway voice broke through his thoughts as the man behind him, practically his shadow at this point, had slipped through the gap in his door just before it had shut. They were in the office now, alone, and Ornstein couldn't help but sigh. 

"Hurry it up, then." His arms crossed against his chest, body leaning against his desk with perhaps the most blank expression Artorias has ever seen. Artorias dramatically pouted at such an expression, hands linking together in that telltale sign of nervousness that Ornstein had picked up on long ago. 

"Am I really that bad with women? Or..people in general."

Ornstein exhaled a huff and immediately stood to turn. This was nonsense. He had work to do.

"I-I just..haven't.. had the chance to ease such awkwardness.", Artorias rushed out quickly at the captains retreating form. "And you've had the chance. Many of times."

Ornstein paused with a contemplative frown. "Artorias", he rubbed his temples, "i do not like people. At all. But I am Captain, and as such, I am a social creature whether I want to be or not.", he turned fully once more, irritation pooling off of him. 

"I don't mean that-", Artorias sighed, "I meant experience. With people. In certain circumstances.", he finished with his hands animating his words. "Privately.", the word was added as an afterthought, quietly, and his sapphire eyes dared to dart once at his Captain to gauge his reaction, before promptly seeking the window. 

The captains golden eyes narrowed somewhat. Almost nonchalantly, he raised his brows at the fully grown mans embarrassment at such a topic. "You're referring to sex." 

"Intimacy.", Artorias corrected swiftly with a slight strain to his voice, sheepish smile enveloping his expression once more. It had the Captain relinquishing his irritation and sighing softly now. Obviously, the wolf knight wouldn't allow the topic to be settled. 

"Intimacy, sex, fucking", the Captain threw the words out with an expression that read 'whats the difference?', as though such a topic didn't bother him at all. Each passing word had Artorias wincing at his own cringeworthy innocence, even at his age. "What of it? Spit it out." Ornstein chastised lightly. 

The wolf knight stilled his quivering nerves. He was a knight of Gwyn, he has faced far worse situations. This wouldn't kill him. "I've never bedded anybody." 

The silence that encompassed the room was deafening. Until a snort reached Artorias and had him shamefully tensing. He supposed it was rather pathetic, he was a couple hundred years old already, in human years he'd be at least 23, and yet he had never--

"I know." The Captain stifled a second snort at the mans astonished expression. 

Artorias folded his arms defensively. "How could you possibly know?" He huffed. For once, he truly felt cheated. Did everybody know? Was there some way of telling? Odd. 

"I know because you can't even breathe in the direction of a wanting woman, let alone lay with her.", Ornstein rolled his eyes. This man was utterly naive. 

Artorias quirked a smile, the entire situation was silly. He truly was dense. "Oh. That.. makes sense." He finished awkwardly. He had..propositions, often, but..well, he wasn't entirely sure why he declined them. 

Ornstein regarded the man with one last look of bewilderment at his obliviousness, and moved his hand across the pile of reports upon his desk. "Indeed." 

He did not expect the next string of words to make his hand slip and knock the perfectly formed pile into a haphazard mess. 

"So, as a friend, will you help me?"

***********

The dark haired man was before him, eyes alight with the need of approval. Ornstein physically faltered. He didn't know whether to laugh or to genuinely ponder on the request. Regardless, his cold, ambiguous expression returned. "Im not a woman, Artorias.", he spoke slowly, unsurely. 

Artorias chuckled, breathy and soft. "I'd be shocked if you were, what with the height and muscles. Not to mention the deep voice." 

Ornstein quirked a brow at the mans newfound comfort and confidence. "Don't misinterpret. I cannot give you what you want for obvious reasons." He gestured towards his body, most certainly unwomanly and very much a man.

"Regardless, I haven't heard a 'no' ", Artorias pointed out with a curious tilt of his head. 

"If you are so curious, ask Ciaran. She might be willing to..lend you a hand.", Ornstein brushed him off and ignored the comment. 

Artorias snorted. "While she is a very valued friend and a beautiful woman, she'd most likely cut me."

They both shared a brief chuckle. 

"And I..felt more comfortable asking you. I-im not sure why." the wolf knight shrugged with a little smile, as though admitting he had no control over such a feeling. 

Ornstein narrowed his eyes suddenly. "Artorias, if this is one of your immature ploys--"

Artorias lifted his hands innocently, head shaking as his inky hair followed the motion. "What? No! I don't expect you to..put on a dress and act like a female, or something. This isn't necessarily about the 'bad at talking to women' thing."

Ornstein rubbed his temples at the mere thought of what he had just stated. With a loud sigh, he listened anyway. "Carry on."

"It's about experiencing. With you. Because..", he trailed off, unsure how to proceed. 

Then, with a sheepish expression that dazzled his handsome features, he repressed a chuckle. "You seem like a tough lover. To lay with, I mean. It could..teach me a thing or two. For when I finally, actually, approach a woman." 

Ornstein almost allowed himself to appear bewildered. But he didn't. 

"Assertive is probably the better word.", Artorias chastised himself with a bite of his lip in awkwardness. "And even if we are men..well, how hard can it be? There can't be THAT much of a difference other than the obvious." He laughed nervously. 

"Artorias, you wouldn't acquire the skill of assertiveness with me, I assure you. If anything - and this is only figuratively speaking - you'd submit. To me. If such a scenario were to take place."

Artorias felt his entire body..warm itself. His pale face flushed, and the stark contrast in colour was obvious. The thought wasn't unappealing. If anything, it made him realise that this had nothing to do with women at all, and everything to do with his Captain. 

"I-I..", Artorias stuttered, hands wringing together. He wasn't sure what he felt. He wasn't necessarily attracted to men, but his Captain (and maybe the first born, he thought secretly) was devastatingly handsome. It was a sin to be that attractive.

He was undeniably curious. 

"It..it's not an unappealing thought.", he finally finished, daring to meet the sharp eyes of his Captain. 

He didn't expect such a contemplative expression to tarnish the usually irritated or nonchalant mask he wore. His thumb was to his lip, hand upon his chin as he thought. His fire-like irises melted Artorias to the spot like one melds iron to a furnace. 

The man was silent and it was beginning to unnerve Artorias. "Unless I deeply repel you, I see no reason to decline this perfect offer between two friends." Artorias shrugged, arms folding in an attempt to cease his Captains bold scrutiny. 

"You don't repel me, at least. Not at all. As a man, I'd be happy to lay beneath you. You're almost otherworldly looking. Who wouldn't want to be penetrated by the best Dragonslayer in the world? Male or female." Artorias thought aloud, and he meant every word. 

Ornstein felt a familiar heat overcome him at such words. That was indeed an..honest proclamation. Quirking a brow, the Captain blinked slowly, wishing to come to terms with this fully. "You have my thanks for such a compliment." He grumbled lowly. 

"However," Artorias physically tensed at the hanging word, "it is unprofessional. Not to mention, you may dislike it as a man with no experience."

Artorias rolled his eyes and stood until he was a mere fee inches away from the Captain. "My subtlety can be both a curse and a blessing." 

Then, with a shaky but determined palm, he laid it gently against Ornsteins broad chest, unsure of how to touch or where to proceed. "Thus, I will halt my subtlety. Captain.." he began. 

Ornsteins gaze flickered down to the wolf knights palm, before working his way back up to his bright blue eyes. 

"I want you to touch me. I want to learn to please you. I want you to fuck me." 

Ornstein was beginning to feel like no simply wasn't an option.

Not that he cared at this point.

  
**********

Artorias couldn't help but feel his face become utterly aflame as Ornstein undressed himself with exceptional confidence. Artorias was nude, by command of his Captain, and sat rather shyly upon the bed they had eventually made their way to. 

To see the captains toned muscles and abdomen flexing under every movement was oddly..mouth watering. The moment those golden eyes snapped at him was the moment Artorias realised how painfully hard he was already.

He swallowed. Ornstein approached him with a look that could be defined by aggression and excitement. Almost as though he were a predator, and Artorias the unfortunate little dragon at the receiving end of that devastating spear. 

Quite literally, Artorias stopped to realise with a repressed snort. 

His amusement ended swiftly when the terrifyingly stoic male descended upon the bed and made a move of his hand.

Artorias gaped. He had witnessed those strong, veiny hands wrap around many things. A spear, a sword, a dragons ragged scale, a neck - and so on. He never believed he'd see those exact hands wrapped around his aching cock. 

What would the young Artorias, knighted by this very man, think if he witnessed this? Artorias came to the realisation that he'd probably collapse from nerves. 

"Well endowed.", the Captain spoke offhandedly, squeezing the base of the length in his hand teasingly. As soon as the stroking started, Artorias felt his jaw unhinge. 

"Surely you've received a handjob?" Ornstein queried in disbelief. Upon receiving a shy shake of the head, he chuckled almost darkly. Ornstein suddenly felt that shattering this boys innocence would prove to be entertaining. 

**********

"C-captain, I'm not entirely sure what I must, ah..do?" Artorias became meek, seated rather preposterously between his own captains sturdy thighs. 

The way the red haired knight tilted his head down at him had arousal pooling in his stomach. His jaw was sharp like a blade, eyes alight with pure mischief. "No?" He drawled, eyes sweeping the slight bite of the lip Artorias had tugged out of anxiety. 

"I'll indulge you, but only once: The mouth can be a most desired orifice." The Captain quirked his lip, but only slightly. 

Artorias swallowed. He got the idea, he thought. Tentatively, the dark hair of the wolf knight shrouded his face as he descended towards the Captains long, rigid length. He spared a curious thought towards how most of the kingdom would feel to be in his place here, now, between such strong thighs of the mighty Dragonslayer.

With a shaky grip upon the pulsing organ, Artorias allowed his mouth to descend around the tip experimentally. He paused, tasting a pleasant saltiness, and gazed up at Ornstein unsurely. 

A nod in his direction told him that what he was doing was correct. Artorias was a swift learner. 

Eagerly, the man began to take the length further into his mouth, until about halfway, before stopping. He suckled and licked in uneven patterns, and it was painfully obvious how inexperienced the man was. Still, Ornstein could appreciate his efforts all the same. 

The Captain didn't believe he'd get any pleasure from this experiment, yet his companions naivety turned him on to great extents. The man eventually caught on with trial and error, until finally he had found a pace for himself.

A hand squeezed gently around the base of his Captains dick whilst his mouth worked the rest in pleasingly slow bobs of his head. 

Artorias could feel his cock throbbing. He wanted his Captains hand on him, he wanted.. to be guided. Controlled, in a way. He supposed such a feeling came from already submitting to the man in terms of rank. 

The arousal heating his abdomen soon had all this mind numbing thoughts relinquishing to the tight hold on his more physical desires. Without a thought, Artorias worked to capture more of the hard length into his mouth eagerly, tongue flicking curiously over the tip.

It was soft and slippery. Apparently, the movement was appreciated if the hand tugging his hair was anything to go by. He repeated the motion a few times, before resuming his determined sucking around the hot sex, wishing to please his Captain.

Ornstein gazed down at him unwaveringly. He guided the man with simple sentences or brief words, but not much else. Was it degrading to say that Artorias seemed to befit such a role well? One where he is on his knees, ever the pleaser. 

A sudden, accidental brush of a flattened tongue up the underside of his cock had him exhaling loudly. The startled expression he received from below was almost beautiful. Wide, sapphire eyes revelling in the sound.

The hand around his base became firmer, bolder, and the long, knowing drag of his tongue from where his hand began to the very underside of his length produced a deep grunt from the captains mouth. 

Glancing up, Artorias flushed at the sight of the red haired knight scowling in concentrated pleasure, as though basking in the disbelief that he could, indeed, feel good from his companion. Reaching a hand down his own body, Artorias groaned around the cock within his mouth at his own sensitivity. 

"Feeling neglected, are we?" Ornsteins sudden husky tone reached his ears. Artorias could only nod. A tug upon his hair had him pulling up, breathing softly. "Was i good? I was good, wasn't i?" Artorias smirked, resting his forearms against the captains spread thighs.

Ornstein rolled his eyes. "Somewhat. You wasn't slobbering all over the place, at least. Or trying to digest me."

Artorias snorted. "What, an experience of yours?"

Ornstein could only chuckle, but otherwise didn't answer. "Up. Lay on the bed." The demand was met easily as Artorias laid himself down, hands clasped across his chest. 

"How far are you willing to give yourself to me?" Ornstein queried with a light stroke of the wolf knights cock. He wasn't partial to men, really, though he had certainly experimented. Perhaps him and Artorias were alike - when it came to each other, it simply felt normal. 

"Perhaps..halfway. A good start.", he finished lamely, abdomen tensing at the teasing strokes along his length. 

Ornstein seemed confident with his answer, despite its vagueness. With a nod, the Captain suddenly pressed his long fingers against Artorias' mouth. Upon meeting resistance and an awfully flustered Artorias, the Captain grinned.

And it was frightening and handsome all in one. It defined his features and brought out all the smugness and confidence that he no doubt earned and deserved. "This is an important factor, Artorias. You will obey me, and you shall soon see why."

Artorias blinked. Slowly and unsurely opening his mouth, his blue eyes became animated circles at the intrusion of fingers. 

  
**********

"You stretch rather well.", the Captain hummed in mild delight, a finger working its way into the inexperienced knights virginal hole. 

"It - it feels odd." 

"Of course it feels odd; I'm penetrating you." Ornstein chuckled, working his finger in to the knuckle. 

"Now, onto the real lessons. You best be attentive, Artorias." 

Artorias nodded meekly. 

"Foreplay is key to climatic sex. Situations vary, but as a whole, it is appreciated by the opposite party." Ornstein allowed a second finger to press against his entrance, before pushing in slowly. 

"The goal isn't to rush. Unless, of course, it is agreed. Typically, easing one into it can be most beneficial, particularly with teasing." As the Captain spoke as though reading from a textbook, a second hand began to loosely stroke the length of his aching cock, refusing to grip him in the way he most wanted. 

"Bare in mind, this exercise will benefit you most with other men. Regardless, the sensation of fingers within you may teach you a thing or two for both genders. I can do little about teaching you the biology of a woman, I'm afraid." 

Artorias flushed. This man was so..stoic. Utterly unaffected by these circumstances. Still, with a nod, he listened. Even if the sudden thrust of his fingers had him gasping. 

Ornstein moved his fingers around slowly, silently, watching the man beneath him slowly relax and inhale sharply. 

"You have sufficiently accommodated two fingers. Well done." 

Artorias felt a flare of embarrassment at such cold, clinical words. It spurred him on and he didn't know why. The hand stroking his length squeezed ever so slightly, and he couldn't help but jerk in surprise.

Artorias could feel a burning desire settle within him. Somehow, the fingers within him had him almost panting. "F-feels better."

"Second lesson: within a woman, there are powerful, erogenous spots that can induce intense sensations. Likewise, men have their own biological sensitivities. Both can be reached by a mere movement and curl of fingers." 

"This", Ornstein punctuated with a torturous curl of his fingers, "is your prostate." 

Artorias shivered at the light brush and straightened his back in shock. His cock was aching to be touched at this point. 

"Achieving orgasm from both prostate and standard masturbating stimulation can be intense. Bare in mind, women differ. Again, I am unable to demonstrate, but the spongy, erogenous zone that they have directly links to the clitoris. It is far more sensitive than a penis, and contains far more nerve endings." 

All whilst stating the words which are surely from a biological textbook, Ornstein began to curl his fingers further and finally grip the aching length, stroking it firmly. Artorias groaned and lolled his head back. He had never felt anything like this before. 

"Despite your inability to test these lessons now, it's, nonetheless, valuable knowledge." The Captain shrugged, eyes pinning the blushing knigh to the spot.

"Ah, I see you are enjoying this; You're swelling, and you're squeezing around my fingers. Good. Soon, I'm sure we'll induce--"

"M-must you be so clinical?" Artorias stuttered, a satisfying sense of humiliation settling within his chest. He was speaking to him as though he were a test subject, and.. he liked it. 

So cold and experimental. 

The rough jerk of his cock had him practically whining, a hand fisted at his mouth to conceal the absurd noises. Peering towards the red haired devil, it was evident that the man was relishing in Artorias' crumbling composure. 

Artorias could feel the building pressure burn within his abdomen. Crooked fingers delved deep within him with little restraint, nudging the sweetest spot within him. He gasped, jaw loosening, 

"Captain, it feels-" Artorias groaned, twisting his hips up into the mans palm. "More, please." He panted, sapphire eyes sweeping the length of the mans rigid jaw, up to his piercing eyes. 

Ornstein remained silent, stoic. The real evidence of his enjoyment came in the form of his fiery eyes and hard length. 

With renewed vigor, a third finger was dipped into Artorias' ass to the knuckle. The man writhed, gasped aloud with his head lolling back. "Fuck, I'm going to cum." Artorias spat desperately, heaving breaths wracking his form. 

Ornstein quirked his lips. Gripping tightly, he jerked the precum lathered cock eagerly, curling his fingers harshly within the man and relishing in the way he moaned and whined without restraint. 

Artorias bit his lip to stifle the lewd groans, muscular abdomen twitching as his centre tensed and his body became rigid. His cock pulsed lightly within his captains hand, and with a cry, the most intense orgasm he had ever achieved washed over him like lightening. 

Thick, hot ropes of cum splattered against his abdomen and down the Captains veiny hand, his hips jolting at each pump of the thick substance. Ornstein hadn't seen such a build up of cum before, and he could only watch in fascination. 

"Oh, fuck!" The wolf knight groaned lowly, thighs spread wide and shamelessly as the pinnacle of his climax ebbed down to a lulling, satisfied hum within his body. 

His body twitched as he lay there, spent, until finally the fingers within him were retrieved. 

Groaning once more, Artorias moved to sit with pressure on shaky limbs, balancing himself tiredly. "That was intense." He breathed with a smile, eyes lingering on the hard length between his Captains thighs. 

Without waiting for any instruction, Artorias forced himself to move and nestle between those sturdy thighs once more. Eagerly, he engulfed the reddened, straining cock much more easily this time. 

Ornstein was close already. He hadn't felt such burning arousal in a long time. Grunting openly, he gripped the knights black hair and allowed his hot mouth to work around him. 

Fuck, he could feel it building already. A concentrated scowl overtook his features, lips parted in heavy breaths as the firm lips of his knight wrapped around him sinfully, licking and lathering his length in hot saliva. 

Gazing down at the wolf knight, Ornstein groaned at the sight of him staring back at him with determination. With a final groan and a jerk of his hips, Ornstein bit his lip as he felt his own release flood the mouth of Artorias desperately. 

Artorias groaned around the mess entering his mouth. Feeling his dick pulse with each squirt of cum sent soft waves of arousal pooling through him once more. 

His tongue captured every drop, and he made sure to swallow it all, out of curiosity and the mere desire to. 

Ornstein sighed softly. Retrieving himself, he smirked at the wolf knight who now had his forearms against Ornsteins thighs once more. "That'll do for now.", he chuckled, brushing a hand through his unruly mane. 

"Thank you for this, Captain. Are we going to..?"

"No. Not yet." Ornstein grinned almost deviously. Standing, the man pulled Artorias to his feet and they both began to redress casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 

"I'd rather you learn how it feels to fuck before you give yourself to me." The Captain tugged on his tunic swiftly. 

Both dressed, they finally met each other head on. "A word of advice." Ornstein began. 

Artorias nodded eagerly. "Yes, anything."

The Captain leaned in with a wicked smirk, hand upon his shoulder. "Dont be so loud when two other knights share the same vicinity. If you're lucky, Ciaran might just be interested. I'd bet money that she's outside that door right now." He hummed knowingly. That assassin was far too mischievous for her own good.

Artorias blinked. He couldn't stop the cheeky smile dazzling his handsome expression.

Who'd have thought his group of friends were all just a bunch of perverts? 

He had the feeling that this would escalate in ways he'd only ever dreamt of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add that Ciaran part. I love a vague implication of what MIGHT have happened;))


	11. Gender neutral Gwyndolin/f

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your loyalty to the darkmoon sun was undying. Perhaps Gwyndolin ought to reward you for your efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwyndolin is gender neutral, as per request. No literal sex but definitely some tentacle fucking ☺ 
> 
> I've skipped over a few requests only temporarily, I've been in a serious slump when it comes to writing. Going through my requests, I picked something that really caught my attention but wasn't TOO far down the list. So here's the fic! Dont worry, everybodies request will be fulfilled!
> 
> ☆Kudos, comments and requests are sooo appreciated. It makes me way too happy but I don't care, i love seeing them☆ 
> 
> Enjoy! 🌟

🌜Gwyndolin/f 🌛  
\-------‐---------------------

It was with the utmost pride that you, a seasoned Darkmoon, stood before a group of malicious invaders, intent on tarnishing the beautiful illusion of Anor Londo. 

Intent on desecrating your God and all their efforts made securing the cathedral. Your sword glistened a dark blue like the night sky, shining murderously with your own sinister intent to end the blight standing before you.

They were no more than the very sludge you once trudged upon in blighttown - they are toxic, malevolent, pointlessly destructive. Still, it allowed you a moment to test your skills. 

You zealously fought them back with all your might. You'd do it until your last breath.

*******

The metallic stench which proved the demise of your enemies hung around you like your own miniature atmosphere, permeating the empty Palace halls in a show of a valiant victory, even if some of that blood was your own. 

You trudged weakly in the direction of your quarters, thoroughly soaked head to toe in that sickly substance of red. Your prisitne robes gifted to you by your Lord were in tatters. Guilt solidified into your stomach like a rock - you'd sew them back yourself. It was luck that you had a few more pairs.

Limping through the vast, white corridors, you turned each corner with perfect memory. A voice had you stumbling somewhat, but instantly straightening in respect.

"Loyal darkmoon, you have never failed me. I commend thee for such bravery." The velvety, smooth voice spoke inside your head, everywhere and no where at once. You swallowed your giddy excitement at such a commandment, forcing yourself to straighten out your aching leg. 

"Thank you, my Lord. I do it for you and my Darkmoon sisters." You spoke meekly, as quiet as a whisper. Although their form was not here, they could no doubt see you. They were an ubiquitous being in this palace, seeing and knowing all. It unnerved you on times, not in the sense of feeling violated in terms of voyeurism - your Lord was highly above such an act - you moreso felt insecure.

"Indeed, I am most gratuitous." The voice resounded all around you, close and yet so far, as though a mere figment of your own imagination. Staring ahead, you waited patiently. Minutes passed that you stood painfully upon your injured leg. Eventually, you resumed your walk.

Your Lord wasnt one for prolonged conversations. You didn't mind. Limping along the white halls, you bounded the next corner only to freeze to your very core as a phantom-like hand grazed your shoulder. Swirling around on the spot and repressing a hiss of pain, your astonished expression met that of a lithe chest. 

Your heart plummeted and fought against your ribcage at the same time. They were right in front of you. Bowing deeply, you gazed up at the tall God with a wavering gaze, darting between their utterly neutral expression and their bright white robes, beaming and piercing your eyes.

Realistically speaking, they were not a large person, for a God. But to you, a human, they were far larger than any man. Lithe and tall. 

"M-my Lord, you are out of your Chambers? Is there an iss--"

Your rambling concerns were halted by a firm hand raising. It was long, pale. "You have demonstrated true loyalty to me, my knight. Is there, perchance, anything you would wish to receive in return for your valiant efforts?"

You stuttered. Choked on repressing another tumble of words. Eyes wide, you shook your head fiercely, blonde locks swaying about almost immaturely. "N-no, of course not, my Lord. I expect nothing, I do this because--"

"Nevertheless," they emphasised a tad louder, silencing you. "I wish to do so. Humans are materialistic beings, a desire beyond my comprehension to claim things, objects." They spoke curiously, head tilting down at you. "Am I correct in assuming that you, too, are such a being?" 

You faltered somewhat. Yes, of course you were such a being. You desired many things, from scrolls, to robes, to books. You shook your head. "Anything that i want is either meaningless or.." you hesitated, "or impossible to gain. Please, Lord, I am happy. Merely having these rare moments with you is enough for me." You smiled, gaze falling away shyly. 

The God appeared to contemplate, eyes hidden beneath their trademark crown. "My company, then. This is what you wish for?" Their voice appeared.. mildly in disbelief. The tone was not deep nor high pitched. It was simply neutral. Everything about them was utterly neutral. 

"Well, I-..I would be honoured." You nodded, a faint redness coating your face even if the blood upon you hid it. 

The God appeared pleased. A light quirk of their pale lips assured you of that. "An interesting choice. I will leave you to bathe." Their form appeared to vanish into thin air. They were gone.

Breathing slowly, you made your way to the washroom. You were in much need of a bath in healing waters.

********

The bath was considerable in size. It was more of a pond, fit for a God. Heat rised from the bubbling water gently, the circular perimeter lined with golden embellishing. With fresh clothes rerieved, you sat them down gently alongside a towel and your weapons. 

Sighing, you relaxed at the thought that the other darkmoon knights had their patrol soon. It gave you time to cherish the water with little worry in your mind. Tugging the tattered robes off of your body, you grimaced at the thick substance of blood that stained the floor from the robe.

You locked the door for ease of mind. There was no need, really, you supposed it made you feel human again. Worrying about privacy and whatnot. Standing before a large, beautifully decorated mirror, you watched your own limbs tug off your bra bindings unconsciously, knowing it from years of practice whilst your mind carried you away to another World. 

Slipping your under cloth down your bruised legs, you let your foot kick off the material until it landed in a heap beside your filthy attire. Standing fully, you glanced at your womanly form. It wasn't something you often saw nowadays. 

Your eyes roved the length of your bruised body, taking in the cuts and gashes with a grimace. Turning, you allowed your thoughts to cease as you tentatively settled into the deep water, the heat perfect as it reddened your skin. 

You smiled. The healing powers within the water were starting to work already. You dipped yourself under the water fully, tranquility settling within you and soothing the stress of your mind. The bath was large enough to swim in, deep enough to dive into. You briefly wondered if this was the old, personal bath of Gough. 

Settling your fingers into the roots of your hair that parted naturally from the water, you scrubbed the areas, working your way up the length of your golden hair. Resurfacing with a gasp, your arms got to work in rinsing the dried, stubborn blood from your form. 

Soon enough, the paleness of your skin was revealed to the dim lighting of the bathroom, the candles morphing your skin into a yellow-orange hue. Leaning back so only your head rested against the rim of the bath, you allowed your body to simply float. 

You closed your eyes tiredly and allowed your mind to wander. Memories and random thoughts surged through your mind alike. From human memories to swimming in that bottomless-looking lake in the dark root basin. Surely if a Hydra could inhabit it, the depth must be immeasurable. 

You blinked blearily, a shimmer of light catching upon your skins reflective surface from the water. Your hands moved to rest comfortably upon your toned abdomen, grazing the flesh gently as you did. 

It made you sigh. How long had it been since you had responded to your bodies needs? Whether by relaxing, sleeping or..other desires. 

You felt abnormally idyllic - a rarity - and the clearness of your mind, the lax languidness of your muscles, told you that perhaps you had been neglecting yourself for far too long. This was the perfect opportunity, judging by the way you felt. 

The familiarity and foreign feeling of your own hand touching your heavy breasts was shockingly pleasing. The juxtaposition in feelings - a flame igniting in memory of touch, while the sensation depicted virginal innocence after so long - was beautifully stimulating. 

You palmed your hardening nipples with a pleasant jolt spiraling down to your thighs. You had time, yet you had never felt so impatient. The smooth hand you glided down your body ignited desirable memories of past lovers under the poison of lust, both seeking to meet the same end. 

You hadn't had much luck in that department whilst in Anor Londo. Fingers delicately circling the apex of your thighs, a heat like no other blossomed pulsatingly in your abdomen, demanding relief. 

You sighed shakily, pausing your tortuous circling to rest a finger directly upon the aching nub between your legs. Your legs quivered instantaneously at the direct contact, a breathy exhale releasing from your lips. 

You huffed suddenly, lifting yourself upon a wet step that descended into water to ensure you don't accidentally slip under. One leg propped up and bent at the knee, while the other stretched outwards, baring your centre to the hot air.

Head lolling back, you dipped a finger into your pleading hole with an unrestrained moan, insides clamping around the single digit with the clear desire for more.

Your mind raced, conjuring up the filthiest scenarios seemingly out of thin air. You imagined long fingers, large hands, big enough to reach further within you than you were capable of. The fantasy was mesmerising, even from the simple picture of the firm hand working its fingers into you diligently. 

You whined, feet slipping somewhat against the wet step before you hurriedly rearranged them, thighs spreading once more. A second finger eagerly dipped into your wet folds, your body hunching a tad to ensure they go as deep as the knuckle.

You choked on a moan, curling your fingers greedily against that sweet spot. Your body jolted, legs threatening to kick out on their own from the stimulation. Breathing raggedly, you pumped the digits into you rigorously, gasping and inhaling sharply with the overwhelming pleasure of it. 

Head lolling back once more, your eyes were lazily half lidded, mind fogged as the pressure within you built deliciously. Through barely opened eyes, you could see the bleary image of the water twinkling back at you, before promptly shutting your eyes and getting swallowed in the bliss of it all. 

Your mind detailed your fantasy further, grasping for as much of it as possible, pale skin moving back and forth in rigid thrusts of fingers, ascending up a lean form - handsome, pretty, you wasn't sure - before finally resting upon an almost moonlight kissed jaw, pale and other worldly. 

You sighed delightedly, moving a hand to rub at your clitoris. It had you keening, crying out into the empty bathroom that you had claimed as your own microcosm, a bubble formed out of your own mind, ripped from reality. 

The soft, yet angular jaw from your fantasy fueled you further. Descending up the persons frame, you forced your fingers into yourself roughly now, eager to tip yourself over the edge. Lips parting in a permanent state of pleasure, you moaned at the mere thought of someone else's fingers gliding into you, stretching you. 

Shockingly pale, silvered eyes stared back at you in your minds eye. You jolted, but did not relent, palming your aching clitoris feverently. They were beautiful. Whether male or female, you did not know. Your fantasy conjured up an amalgamation of the two in its desperate attempt to satiate your lust. 

You were panting now, chest flushing up to your cheeks as your hand began to ache from its rigorous tensing and thrusting. It did not deter you. Curling your fingers, you arched your back, seeking that final pinnacle. 

The eyes within your mind blinked. You physically faltered. The mannerisms of this person was beautiful. It reminded you of.. 

"O-oh, gwynd--" 

Your eyes snapped open and your hand wrenched itself from your thighs shakily. How treacherous, you had been fucking yourself to your God. That was..it was wrong.. 

An empty melancholy settled over you even as your sex pulsated needily, soaking your inner thighs into a sticky mess. You were quivering from your high bring ripped from you so suddenly, shame and forbidden excitement igniting your body into flames. 

You shifted yourself to settle into the water once more, almost as though its coverage would allow you to disappear for a moment, wash away the sin. 

Your face burned. Sighing, you rested your head back against the rim of the bath once more. It was a simple mistake, not particularly virtuous and innocent but..an accident all the same. 

Your hands mindlessly swished upon the waters surface. You had better get out, you thought. Lifting an arm in resigned defeat at your preposterous situation from moments ago, you numbly watched the beads of water glide down your arm.

Your skin was reflective once more, the orange hue of the candles making your skin appear like an egg yolk in colour. One section of your arm remained purely white, oddly. You rubbed at it, moved it out of any shadow, and yet that same candle-esque colour didn't taint it. 

The whiteness swayed gently, like a ghost. It--Oh God. Your entire body froze in fright.

They were in the room, they were--

Glancing around swiftly and anxiously, you gasped upon seeing no form in sight. The white reflection upon your arm had disappeared. It..it was a hallucination, then. Your mind tormenting you for your sinful ways. 

Breathing slowly, you waited a few moments until your heart had settled, and rised above the water. Your short frame stood upon the shallow steps that led into the depth of the pool. Though to you, the shallowness was in fact deep for your size. 

Perching a hand upon the rim, you stretched out a hand to reach for your fluffy towel that sat neatly amongst a modest, little table. You probably looked ridiculous, one leg stretched behind you to give your body more reach, utterly naked, and releasing huffs of frustration. 

Your hands touched its soft surface finally, pulling the fabric to your body with ease. Wrapping it around your dripping form, you turned upon the step to finally lift a leg and leave the hot bath. 

"I see now, why you deemed any form of gift from me to be impossible, unattainable." 

You shrieked. Your body jolted, dropping the towel from your hands in panic as the fabric hit the water with a faint splash.

Your feet slipped amongst the tiled steps, desperate to hide your immodesty in an attempt of backtracking into the water. You settled for wrapping your arms around your breasts, legs becoming crooked inwards and bent at the knee to partially hide your mound. 

"M-my Lord, forgive me for such clumsiness, my immodesty is most offensive, please, allow me a moment to--" you stuttered and stumbled, unsure of how or where to move in your current state of rigidness. 

They didn't appear to react. Their tall frame stood afar, silently, head cocked to the side in wonderment. Your face flamed a bright crimson, body shaking in utter humiliation.

"You wished to receive frequent audience with me." They spoke as cold as the night air, unperturbed by these events, and began walking slowly towards you. 

"I-yes, but..in all due respect, n-not while I'm bathing." Your voice wavered. Gwyndolin stopped before you, their human legs no doubt an illusion. Even whilst you were upon uplifted ground, on one of the highest steps of the bath, they still towered over you. You meekly glanced upwards at the ethereal God.

"Do you find comfort in lying, my knight? I am here because you wished it so." They spoke as though mildly confused by your sudden defensiveness. 

Your eyes were wide, afraid of them knowing your dirty secret, afraid of them abandoning you and--

"You have often demonstrated acts of self pleasure, my knight, I have witnessed it. However.." they trailed off, an ambiguous and unheard tone coating their voice. "It hadn't crossed my mind that such self pleasure would be due to the direct cause of myself."

You couldn't speak. You felt frozen in time, unable to defend your sinful act. And even still, the fire within your centre burned. Hands wrapped firmly around your chest, you forced your gaze to their chest instead. An act of submission and shame. 

"I see, it is not my mere company that you desire, but my body. A carnal desire." Their tone held amusement, light quirk of their lips showcasing as such. "Very well. You deserve as much. Am I to assume that the female anatomy between your legs desires penetration?" 

You blanched, gasped and choked all at once. "M-my Lord, I would never ask of such a thing. It was a mistake, i assure you, a sinful mistake that I will repent for--"

"Halt. I will not tolerat such lies. It appears you humans coexist with sinful lying. Be that as it may, I am currently peering into your thoughts, and the picture you have painted of me, the acts you wish for me to commit unto you, speak loud enough."

You were wet. There was no denying it. You yearned for their touch, you wanted to be broken apart into pieces by this God. Breath hitching, you could only imagine those long fingers inside of you..

Gwyndolin tilted their head with a small smile. "I see. Thou wishes to be penetrated by a Gods hand. Very well."

And then you were floating and bared to the world, arms remaining frozen at your side. In the blink of an eye, you were settled upon long legs, lap large enough for you to sit comfortably. 

You flushed. You were naked upon your God, you were soiling their pristine robes with your wet body. The hand which snaked between your thighs had you jolting violently, gasping. "I know your every desire, little human. Tis not often that I would allow myself to indulge in such uncouth demands. I will make this exception, in the name of your undying loyalty."

Long fingers pierced your hole, sinking in deeply. The length of them was humanely impossible, filling you beautifully in ways you had only ever dreamt of. "T-thank you, my Lord." You shuddered, leaning back against their chest as their larger form towered above your shoulder. 

The fingers delved within you perfectly, so gracefully. You bit your lip to stifle the sounds, body flushed as you felt the ethereal coolness of the God behind you. 

"Little Darkmoon, your thoughts are very sinful. The flesh of man is a curse in itself; your lust knows no bounds. It is infinite." They rumbled, fingers splitting within you to have you keening and squirming upon their lap. 

"P-please, forgive me for my lowly, human ways, my Lord. I..I find great-ahh, sinful pleasure in what you are doing to me." You admitted with a whine, daring to turn back to gaze at them shyly. 

The breath was knocked out of you at the sight of pale, uncovered skin, their face free of their usual headpiece. Snowy, pale eyes stared back at you in mild fascination, or perhaps amusement. Your God was often one for studying humans, perhaps to them, this was an experiment in itself.

Their face appeared both masculine and feminine. It was an odd mixture of features, and yet the work of art formed in front of you was mesmerising. Their bright white hair fell in front of their eyes softly, and you couldn't help but blush, lips parted in astonoshment at the sight. 

"Thank you." Their lips quirked teasingly, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. You blinked, head tilting.

"Your inner dialogue stated that I was beautiful. It is a concept I am unfamiliar with, but very much appreciate all the same. A humans concept of beauty takes many forms." The God trailed off in thought, yet the digits within your tight heat did not relent. 

You gasped, eyes lidding as you gazed at the God you adored so much. You hardly cared if they had the ability to scour your filthy mind - you'd repent by protecting them from malicious invaders. You'd lay down your life for them, just..please, don't stop, you thought desperately. 

You deserved punishment for this. These dirty thoughts of a being of light was forbidden. A part of you knew you'd enjoy such a punishment from them, to be impaled by whatever they had to offer, whether it be makeshift penis or..

You froze at the invasive fantasy that they no doubt sensed. Their..their tendrils. The ones they covered up and made an illusion of legs instead. Your insides tightened, quivered. You were panting now, unabashedly grinding softly against their rigid digits, juices no doubt soaking through their perfectly clean robes. 

"Dirty, little human. How uncouth, how..bizarre." their voice hissed into your ear, full of confusion, faint disgust and an overwhelming curiosity. "Your insides squeeze me. Is it a cause for concern? Or do you merely enjoy my ministrations upon you?"

You gasped, arching into the God. Their words were no doubt curious, yet the way in which they stated it made your body soar with arousal. "I-its out of pleasure, my Lord. Its a natural reaction of arousal." You moaned out, foul and desirable images permeating your mind. 

Their fingers were retrieved from you slowly. Blinking, you gazed down at your puffy lips and the sudden emptiness, only to gasp as you were now sat upon writhing tendrils and tentacle-like limbs. It did not disgust you one bit, no. Instead..

"Mm, I will entertain this fantasy of yours. I, too, am enraptured in curiosity." The slimy, wriggling feeling of a tendrils delicately touched your lower lips. Upon a second glance, you were relieved that they were not snakes. Gwyndolin must've used an illusion to allow the tendrils to become more comfortably insertible. 

The feeling of the thick appendage parting your pink walls was dizzying. Your mind became mush, anticipating the fullness that was surely to ensue.

You were not wrong. Your mouth released an involuntary cry as the base of the appendage thickened out and stretched you painfully in the most pleasing way. 

It inched into you slowly, only stopping at the resistance of your cervix. You breathed shakily, body fully resting against their solid chest as your thighs spread wide of their own accord. 

"O-ohh, I am s-so grateful, my Lord." You mewled dazedly, choking on a gasp as the appendage began to thrust in and out of you deliciously. The stretch was borderline unbearable, but nothing had ever felt so perfect. 

"I am intrigued. I assume the copious amount of fluid coating my tendril is a good thing, yes?"

You nodded swiftly, muttering a breathless noise of agreement. One cold, pale hand moved to rest against your arm comfortingly, your heart and soul melting at the touch. The appendage thrusted a tad faster now; they were evidently curious at your growing sounds and did all they could to elongate and strengthen your reactions. 

The thrusting became reckless at your sounds of loud approval. You tossed your head back, the persistent thrusting of the thick tendril pushing your own fluids in and out of yourself, forming a ring of creaminess around the very base of the phallic-like tentacle.

You became delirious at the second tendril poking your stuffed hole inquisitively, testing its possibility of stuffing you further. "O-Oh, my L-Lord, thats-- so full!" You cried out weakly, staring down at your stretching lips as the second tendril slithered its way into you gently. 

You gasped so loudly it had your voice cracking into a high pitched exhale, hands unconsciously gripping Gwyndolins robes as your legs kicked out reflexively. 

The tentacles thrusted into you in tandem, the squelching of your hot insides permeating the air filthily. Your cheeks were flushing so badly you could feel the heat radiating off of you. The stretch and girth of the two appendages was unfathomable, you had never been fucked so full in your life. 

"Is this what you truly desired, little human? To be mercilessly filled by a God? Curious little creature." They hummed almost contentedly, long arm moving to wrap easily around your waist as they held your writhing form in place.

You jolted as two extra appendages moved to wrap around each thigh, wrenching them open and holding them in place. You could see your own puffed up labia, lubrication coating your inner thighs in a light sheen. 

It took you a moment until you nodded lazily, eyes lidded and mouth fully agape as the two tendrils of the God drilled into you roughly now, tearing you in two and causing loud wails to release from your usually quiet mouth. 

"O-ohh! I'm.. going to cum-" you whined needily, legs fighting against the grasp on your legs as your body spasmed involuntarily. 

"A pinnacle of human bliss, I assume." The God spoke softly, utterly calmly, and increased their pace within you. Your eyes were littered with tears at this point, drool threatening to drip from your opened lips as you keened and writhed desperately, your insides eagerly accepting the thick, hard appendages greedily. 

The feeling of a cold, far larger hand cupping your mound had you shivering, eyes widening. And then their fingers were upon you, nudging you to your climax as they circled the engorged, slippery nub teasingly, all the while fucking their limbs into you vigorously.

You saw stars. Back arching painfully, the dam within your abdomen broke, shattered beyond repair, as cries and pleas fell from your mouth in incoherent strings of sentences. 

You gushed beyond what you thought was comprehensible. The amount that cascaded out of you was mind altering. Your cries echoed off of the walls, thighs quaking in the grip wrapped around them. 

You felt muscleless. Your high lasted for so long, forcing you into a dream-like trance as the thick appendages slowed their incessant thrusting before coming to a stop and withdrawing gently. 

You moaned weakly, voice cracking at the hoarseness of your throat. You both sat there for a few moments in silence until you came to. Slowly, shyly, you put your hands upon their knees for balance and lifted yourself onto horrifically shaking legs. 

"T-thank you, I am eternally grateful. I am forever loyal to you." You bowed on imbalanced, soaked legs. You could feel the cooling juices gliding down your thighs as you stood. 

The God stood, the familiar snake-like limbs forming into human legs once more. They towered above you, placing a gentle hand atop your head. 

"I do hope you are satisfied. It was..an interesting experience. One I will not forget." Their lips quirked amusedly. You blushed. "Sleep, dear Knight. I may have worn my most loyal Darkmoon out."

The faint chuckle of the God vanished into thin air. They were gone. 

You sighed contentedly. That was the best orgasm you had ever received in your life. 

You were giddy for the entire week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of times I accidentally wrote "he" is shameful. Sorry if there are any gender mistakes, I did check it twice over but still. 
> 
> I kinda enjoyed this more than I thought i would 😌 
> 
> For once, let's praise the darkmoon  
>  🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘 
> 
> 🌚 do we like the sexy tendrils? 🌚


	12. Patches - f/m (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a mere week after being humiliated by that fiend of a merchant, you found your thoughts wandering to the man more frequently than you'd like.
> 
> After fucking your close friend, you believed your lust would at least quell. It didn't.
> 
> You didn't know you had an audience, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeell hasn't it been sometime. 
> 
> I felt thirsty for patches. Heres part 2! Even if it is a little sloppy. Soz for that.

☆Patches..again!☆  
\--------------------------------

You were smitten, though not in the sense that most would use the word. It wasn't an emotional attachment as such, but more of a..physical. 

You hadn't slept very well since the incident, hadn't looked the man in the eye either. In fact, you had avoided the shrine altogether for the past week out of humiliation; they had no doubt heard your cries that day, with that bastard merchant. 

In truth, your time had been taken by your never ending adventures across the land, traversing a horrific, corpse filled Catacomb with hordes of skeletons chasing you down. 

And yet the heat between your thighs remained ever present, even when it shouldn't. Your thoughts were full of the wish to BE filled. Your fingers weren't enough, you had lately resorted to using your dagger handle, it's girth pleasant enough but the rigidity of the weapon not at all replicating a real cock. 

Shamefully, and perhaps a tad desperately, you had even seduced the young Anri, a knight pledged to his oath and his lost friend, having been separated. 

"I..m-miss, what are you doing?" Anri had stuttered in that adolescent voice of his, backstepping politely at your approaching form. The ever present smirk on your lips had made him a stuttering mess, eyes darting wildly to every corner. 

"Oh, Anri, we're friends, aren't we?" You had murmured lowly, your smaller body pressing up against the males chest plate. He nodded dumbly, pale skin as red as a cherry as his helmet clattered to the floor from his grasp.

"Could you help a friend?" You smiled playfully. Upon receiving his eager nod, you really used the boy until he was spent. 

Of course, fresh, eager cock was indeed a satisfying treat, especially from the young handsome man who was so willing to please you and not himself. 

Your mind flashed to the memory of it all, how the both of you had bypassed the fire demon swiftly and ran to the underground bonfire, before the treacherous smoldering lake. 

Anri was inexperienced, but he damned well tried his best. It was good; nay, beyond good, having the virgin knight whine and moan at the mere touch of your soaked lips against his tip. He was not a seasoned man in the slightest, but it would do. 

You had cried out blissfully as you ordered the man to grasp your hips as you bounced upon his hard cock ready to explode inside of you already. He hastily complied to your every demand, though often the man simply couldn't control himself and would end up climaxing before you had.

You didn't blame him. You had fucked him many more times until he got the gist of it, even whilst your mind conjured up images of a far more sinister, sarcastic and downright foul kind of man..

Anri's dick simply couldn't quell your thirst for more, but alas, it was fun while it lasted. As compensation for practically coercing the boy, you had found Horace on the precipice of sanity, within an empty, dark cave, and reunited the two. 

The mute man was far larger than Anri, perhaps you'd-- no, you wouldn't tarnish yourself further. You were not a simple minded whore. 

Or, well, maybe you were. Still, these two men didn't deserve to be at the end of your selfish game, even if the odd tension surrounding you three depicted that Horace suspected something had happened - or perhaps Anri's constantly blushing face was a big giveaway.

You wouldn't coerce every young lad that came your way. Where had your knightly pride disappeared to? In a mere week you had descended beyond what you could ever imagine.

You had forced yourself upon the righteous path so much that your lust was truly spilling out of your rigid confines after that simple, mere one encounter with the bastard. It had ignited a flame within you that refused to be doused.

In current times, you allowed the memory of Anri and the hyena man to fade as you trekked through the stinking sewage water of Irithyll. Excrement lathered the sewer walls, no doubt caused from the peculiar spider women that dwelled here.

They were easy enough to slay, for the most part. That is, until in the very far corner a familiar, slinking silhouette struggled viciously with a group of five. "Oh, Gods, I cannot die here!" A scrawny theif proclaimed adamantly, slashing and fighting his way through the horde of squealing and hissing spider women.

"Greirat?" You shouted, marching in the direction of the horde intent on eating him, no doubt. The thief was without hood, eyes squeezed shut painfully. "I cannot see, there is--something toxic has been spat into my eyes." 

You wouldn't allow these abominable women to prevail, even if at this point more and more appeared before you. Your armoured form stood before the blinded Greirat, squishing him against the wall as much as possible as your charcoal attire glinted as menacingly as the snarl beneath your helmet. 

You slashed down the first four in mere two hits each, as swift as possible to ensure they do not spit the venomous sludge at you. And yet, a horde grew from seemingly nothing, raising from the excrement and water covered floor miraculously.

"I-I am sorry, allow me to--" Greirat pushed against your form, his dagger in hand as free arm wiped ferociously at his eyes. You pushed the man back roughly. "No. I can handle this."

Apparently not. Truly, how many of them were there? They were surrounding you, grabbing at you with disgusting arms as their chest opened up into a makeshift mouth born of an opened ribcage. 

The cavity was nauseating to look at, lathered in all sorts of grime and questionable substances. There was no way out of this tiny corner; homeward bone in hand, you gripped Greirats arm and warped to firelink.

Both of you dropped into a heap at the shrine, Greirat weakly reaching out to feel the floor and stand upon shaky limbs. At once, the shrines attention honed in on you both. Greirats face was covered in a thick sludge of purple and brown, squinted fiercely from the pain of the sting.

You, however, were practically marinating in the feces, mud and odorous sewage water that clung to you. Tossing your helmet to the ground, you refrained an involuntary gag from the scent of it. You pitied the undeads who had to succumb to the scent, too. 

"Ashen one, are you-?" The Firekeeper trailed off, unperturbed by the filth coating your body as her hands gripped at you softly. 

You nodded; she felt the movement. "I'll be fine, once I've bathed. Greirat has temporarily lost his sight, however. I think Cornyx could help, he is adept in many toxic pyromancies. Perhaps he can also eradicate them, too." 

The firekeeper agreed. With Greirat in the hands of the pyromancer, you groaned down at the sight of yourself. Where to bathe, you wondered. 

The only area you could think of that was closeby and on the same path you were headed, was the rather compact, kitchen area after the sewers. You hadn't looked for long, but when there, it was evident that there was equipment for cooking, a room for holding food and another side room, very small, with what appeared to be a wooden, overly large bucket big enough for you to squeeze into if you curled up.

It would do for now. There was no way you'd traverse the cleansing Chapel again, not with those vile aldrich worshippers lurking around every corner. 

And so, here you stood in naught but your underlayers, peeling the cloth off and tossing it aside as the large, wooden bath filled with surprisingly hot water from the taps. Then again, Irithyll was a wonder all on its own; you had never seen such architectural brilliance before. You supposed the only issue was the putrid sewers dwelling below. Perhaps the Gods had little time to worry over where there waste goes. 

With the robes given to you as a gift folded neatly upon a shelf, you practically threw yourself into the wooden, circular tub and got to work. You did not dally, the redness of your skin was proof of that. You scrubbed  
every inch of your body hard, dipping your hair under with your legs hanging comically over the over sized bucket to disperse the clumps within your locks. 

You didn't relax, the mere thought was erased immediately. After almost an hour, you were pleased to see your actual skin, albeit raw, and your actual hair colour. The vile stench had vanished, though the remnants of it lingered disgustingly in the water.

Gripping the comfortable albeit large robes, you threw them over your wet body; the fire in the next room would warm you. Sword in hand, you quietly ventured to the large room, the flicker of flames growing closer, and the odd silhouette in front of it that hadn't been there earlier. 

They were plump, round. Siegward! A tad more fluid now that you knew who the sleeping knight was, you jogged over lightly, crouching beside the stout man. "Sleeping in horrendous places yet again?"

Siegward murmured, arms folded and head drooping as your voice suddenly jolted him awake. "Well, well!" He proclaimed in that jovial tone, "hasn't it been all too long! It's good to see you." A heavy hand clapped your back.

You smiled, peering into the fire and sighing contentedly at its warmth. "How long have you been here? Did you--" you indicated awkwardly to the small room you had bathed in.

The onion knight shook his head far too dramatically. "Now, now, it is not my business what a lady does to bide her time. Hand to heart, I did not peek." He put a gauntlet to his armour. "In truth, i had intended to keep watch for you, but, well.."

"You fell asleep?"

An embarrassed mumble of agreeance had you chuckling. Siegward was a good friend to you. He tried his best.

"So, young one, tell me all about your journey! I have a simple delight brewing, a fine estus soup. Please, do help yourself. Even we undeads deserve a little normalcy." The smile practically radiated through his armour. 

Gathering a bowl, you sat cross-legged upon the floor once more, spoon in hand. "Well, there's not much to tell. I'm afraid I haven't journeyed as far as I had hoped, this time." 

Siegward hummed in recognition of your words, listening politely. 

"Anor Londo is my next destination. It hasn't been easy traversing Irithyll. To top it off, Greirat got himself into far too much trouble, again, and as a result my entire body was caked in..filth." you shuddered, sipping the soup. It revitalised you. 

"Oh, dear, that young man gets himself into a pickle as much as I!" He chuckled, hand on his belly. "And what of that Anri fellow? Is he still valiantly seeking to conquer his quest in, uh.." the man paused.

You hardly noticed, the soup was far too good.

"In- Oh yes! His quest to avenge the poor orphans."

You nodded, spoon to your mouth. The bowl was almost empty.

"Such a young boy." Siegward tutted, reminiscing, no doubt, about himself. You believed him to physically be double your age, though the curse made such things meaningless now. 

"Alas, I commend him. And you, too. For you are helping him, are you not? A good friend." 

You dropped the bowl to your side, wiping your mouth of the orange liquid. "Younger than me, even. And that's saying something in a world where all I've met is older folk." You commented offhandedly, eying the pot of soup. 

"Oh ho!" The round knight guffawed, "how very fortunate for you! A man your own age." Siegward hummed thoughtfully. 

The comment had your attention honing in on him for a moment, soup long forgotten. What he was insinuating? You chuckled nervously. "Well, yes, I suppose. Though, many people of many ages offer me help all the same. In truth, I pity him for being so naive. At least he has Horace at his side."

"But of course! Friendship is vital in a world like this, my dear." The man droned on, though it was all in good nature and you knew that. Still, it brought a playful eyeroll out of you.

"Likewise, the young Greirat offers you his wares, and you in return save the boy from harm. Tell me, do you often fuck the chaps who help you?" 

You froze. He-what-- were you hearing things? Eyes wide, discomfort and disbelief etched its way into your confused expression. "I--Pardon?" Your tone held incredulity. 

Siegwards, however, did not. "Oh, terribly sorry. Silly, silly onion that I am. I often never realise that my thoughts break through my thick layers!" He laughed loudly, joyfully.

You smiled doubtfully. The ball of discomfort gaped into your stomach like a hole. You didn't have a chance to speak before the man began once more.

"Not all of us are as blessed as I, admittedly, what with my thick layers of concealment." He tapped his rotund, armoured stomach playfully.

And then his tone changed. "But I can see right through you, you dirty little minx. Thought you could pull a fast one while I was gone, ey?" The once jovial tone shifted to one of an accented, cynical type. 

You physically flinched, eyes wide and horror depicted onto your face.

And then the round helmet of the Catarina Knight was removed. "Ohh, yes, I've heard all about you gallivanting to young boys laps. Seen it, too." A smoothly shaven head revealed itself, along with a lecherous grin that could scare even a basilisk. 

Heat plummeted into your stomach and your face. You shivered at the twinkle in his eyes; was it excited anger within those depths? You meekly remained quiet. How odd, that such a man could reduce you to this state.

"W-wheres Siegward?" You eventually choked out. The look of irritated fascination he gave you had you shifting uncomfortably. He seemed..unpredictable.

He frowned at you like a pouting child, fake innocence oozing nastily off of him. "Aw, am I really not enough for you, love? Well, I'm not THAT surprised," he waved you off with a disarming smile, "what with I saw in that little cave the other day."

Your eyes darted to the ground. You were speechless. 

"Do you want to know what little old me happened upon while searching for trinkets? Well, you're in for a dirty treat if I tell ya." He spoke in such a friendly manner.

All the while, the man began tossing the over sized armour from his body, casting it to the floor with little care. His usual attire lie underneath. "There i was, minding my own business, until a beauty of a trinket shimmers in the distance. And oh, did it shimmer! Well, as I sneak a bit closer, what do you think I found?" 

You stared at him. He stared back, insistently. You stood slowly to your feet. "Patches, listen, I--"

"Oh, alright, alright! I'll tell you. I saw," he lowered his voice - he was becoming eerie now - "a shiny little thing. Oozing with beauty, glimmering like water in the sun!" He smiled widely, and in two large leaps he stood above you, leaning down just the slightest. 

"Im open to guesses." He sang lightly; the darkness that hid within his light tone had you shivering. You remained silent, stepping back. He stepped forward, closely.

"No guesses? Alright then. It was unlike any thing I had ever seen. I thought to myself, 'I can't go selling that!'. It was a shame, really, when I found it already claimed by a boy who REALLY didn't know how to use it."

You couldn't deny the heat enveloping your body, more so when the man forced you against the wall with his body closing around your own. "Such a sweet cunt, I knew I had to have it. And, well, perhaps it was fate that your little scrunched face was attached to it."

Your eyes widened. Memories flooded your mind immediately. At this point, his body pressed against you menacingly. 

"A delectable little thing, you were. Could hardly believe my eyes, it shimmered me blind! But I just, i don't know-" he shrugged, waving his hand agitatedly, "I couldn't quell a certain something growing within me at seeing that barely adolescent idiot shove his little prick into what was mine."

Your abdomen flared with arousal. You were crimson faced, and truly at a loss for words. You couldn't even fight back. You didn't think you wanted to.

Patches grinned chillingly, that same rage was embedded deeply into his eyes, even if he did act so unnervingly jovial. You could see it roaring in his eyes like a fire over a village.

"After all, what sort of business would I be running if I let every undead have a turn of my goods? Oh, but the poor boy needn't be punished for YOUR misdeeds. No, no, that wouldn't do. I best test my little trinket, just to see if it still works." He shrugged, as though he had no options, and immediately your hair was being yanked into a fist.

A gasp tore from your lips. You began to scowl, only for it to soften into something akin to enjoyment as the man wrenched your hair back so you were staring up at him, grin as sharp as a dagger. 

"I..I.." you tried to explain yourself, to insist that Anri was only a distraction to you, albeit a rather selfish one on your part.

"You..you..?" He mocked in a lighter, higher tone, fake empathy oozing off of him as his expression depicted false understanding at your lack of words. 

You flushed, humiliation pitting into your stomach at the eyeroll he gave you, his dark eyes sharpening to reveal his true emotions, but only for a moment. Soon, he was back to that sinister joyfulness he often wore. 

"Manipulated the young boy, didn't you? How very, very twisted of you. Are you certain you're no cleric?" He rumbled darkly, two hands moving to your hips and squeezing tightly. 

A hand forcing its way into your robes had you jolting, shivering, though no attempt was made to stop the hand venturing south. You were enraptured by his words. 

"Did the young Anri fuck you good with that virgin cock of his, my dear? You were awfully demanding, hoity-toity and all, acting as though you were made of gold." His tone was sardonic, degrading.

And then those long fingers were upon your slippery slit, rubbing the length of it slowly. "Now, isn't that a surprise? What's got you all worked up?" Patches huffed a laugh, grinning at the way your lips parted upon feeling his rough fingers sink in to the knuckle.

Your eyebrows knitted together softly, teeth nibbling at your lip. You were so fucking wet. Your hands unconsciously found his arms as two fingers ploughed into you, scissoring your tight walls apart. 

"Nothing but used goods now, aren't you? I ought to sell you off to every man that'd have you. Earn me a fortune, that would! All those snivelling little men you call friends would be lining up." The man proclaimed, oozing a far too casual outlook on the situation. 

You moaned at his words, allowing the seal of your closed lips to break apart breathlessly. Legs widening of their own accord, you keened as the man pushed a third, calloused finger into your molten depths.

"Those poor fellas; you haven't got a clue, have you, my naive little girl? Anri would be queueing bright and early for another round. Horace would follow, being the little sheep that he is. More money for me! And all because of that beautiful little trinket between your thighs. Grand, isn't it?" He sighed dreamily, thrusting his digits into you with and curling them until your knees were shaking. 

Your head lolled back, nails digging into his armoured arms desperately. And then there was a tumble of kitchenware clattering to the floor, your waist gripped roughly and your body shoved over a small table, stomach hitting the wood with a thud as you exhaled on impact. 

Your robes were ripped upwards, baring your supple rear and lower back. He nestled between your legs, hand firmly planted on your back to hold you down. All the while, his tone did not reveal the sheer aggression of his actions. 

"That sorcerer would be next, I recon. Tough shell to crack, but I've seen the way he eyes you, sweeting." Patches cackled, recalling to you the many scenarios he had caught said sorcerer defiling you with his eyes.

You stuttered. "O-orbeck?! No, he wouldn't, we're just friends, he tutor's me--"

Your head was pushed roughly to the table. "No man does anything for free, you naive thing!" He chastised childishly, "He's biding his time, fattening you up on those rare compliments he gives. He'll want his cock wet by the end of the month." Patches shrugged, as though it were far too obvious, and nudged his hot length against your opening. 

You were in disbelief of it all. Your mind swirled sinfully with the thought. 

"That gargoyle oaf you often banter with, now I KNOW he wants to bury himself into you. Or are you blind?" Patches scoffed, gripping your hips roughly before forcing his entire length into you. You whimpered and keened into him, knuckles whitening from your grip on the table. 

"E-Eygon is a man of..of faith, he is loyal to Irina, he would never dally--" your words were cut off by your whine, his cock grinding into you just right. The sudden stretch of it was over whelming; all the right places were being stimulated almost forcefully. 

"Fucking clerics." Patches spat, and the reminder of such men had him fisting your hair and tugging your locks painfully. You cried out, back arching like a bow. 

"Bet he wants this sweet little cunt all to himself. A man gets bored, you know. There's only so long he will keep following that helpless little failure of a firekeeper around until he sniffs out something that will give him a hot sheath to bask in; cum into." 

The words of your allies sent traitorous heat nestling into your sex and lubricating it further. "My stunning little trinket will do so well on the market. You can have all the men you want, and I'll have all the money I deserve!" 

Patches pulled out, before thrusting back in roughly. You heaved a breath, cursing at the pleasure of it. You pushed your ass back into him, whining, pliant for more. 

The hyena tutted. "Look at you - a fall from grace. Or did your high horse finally bolt? Its only been one week, darling; What happened? You were so fiesty at the beginning." He mocked with a smirk, creating a steady rhythm of long, rough thrusts.

The embarrassment that flooded you was immeasurable. He wasn't wrong. Your face flushed against the cool table, teeth clenched as the mans unforgiving length pounded into you until the table rattled loudly. You groaned at every stroke of his girthy length against your walls.

"Whats brought on this bout of whorish desires, I wonder? Did Anri not satisfy you?" Patches was relentless in his mock concern and his fake, innocent friendly tone. It had a conflicting heat bubbling inside of you wantonly. 

"He..he was mediocre, but I.. taught him." You gasped out, the high pitched exhale cracking ever so slightly.

The hands around your hips rubbed up against your waist and down to your ass in languid movements. "Oh? Well isn't that a commendable, selfless act indeed." Patches soothingly glided his fingertips across your back, the ticklish sensation causing you to relax somewhat. 

"Or..did you simply want that cunt stuffed, regardless of what man was attached to the cock?" He cackled mockingly at you, thrusts piercing into your cervix almost warningly. It had you whimpering, humiliation evident on your hidden face as tears littered your lashes. 

If this was any other man, any undead for that matter, you'd have cut their head off in a second for the mere insinuations being thrown at you. But this was..Him, of all people. Your body didn't want to fight back.

"Ooh, I know who'll pay a hefty purse of coins for you!" Patches' voice boomed in the small confinement of the kitchen, the fire flickering far too swiftly, ominously; the heat didn't touch you. 

"That upper class sort. You know the one, prattles on about Fingers and the likes to any unwelcome undead who happens to pass by." Patches was incredibly conversational in tone, as though the two of you were drinking tea and catching up, when in fact he had you below him, crying out at the increasing speed of his thrusts into your tight heat.

"L-leonhard." You affirmed brokenly, face a cherry at the mere thought of being passed around like a common whore amongst the men of the shrine. You had no doubt that this particular man would..indulge, if only because he had an odd sense of reproach to unkindled. 

"Thats the one, a greedy bastard. All them fingers are though, aren't they? Pillaging, taking what they want. Much like you wih the young knight! Ive seen many things upon you, my dear, but I never believed greed to be one of them." 

His voice became a snarl, true anger revealing itself in his bouts of biting sarcasm and growling belittling of words. Hands moved to settle upon your hips, before your body was flipped with a loud thud of your back hitting the table. You scowled up at Patches venomously. He cocked his head.

"There she is, that reproachful little wench that I met last week! Believe it or not, i rather missed it. Still, I didn't go sticking my cock into God knows who." The hyena-like man remarked snidely, thrusting himself back into you. Your slippery insides allowed easy passage. 

Stifling a moan into a grunt through clenched teeth, your glare did not settle. "I can fuck whom and what I like. You don't own me." You spat, lip pulled between your teeth as the man began thrusting deeply within you. 

He was thick, it hit your most sensitive spot with ease. Your mind whirled with the need for more. Patches scoffed, even rolled his eyes at you as his grin become sinister. 

A hand around your neck had you gasping. "Well, you're not wrong there, love. Selling you off for an hour to every man who wants a personal whore would do me fine. Both get what we want, don't we?" He punctuated with a rough thrust and a squeeze of your throat. 

"I get the money, you get your hole filled. Brilliant!" 

"I-what?! You're crazy! How dare you-" you began, the man literally meant every word he was saying. Your sentence was soon broken off into a whine as his fingers toyed at your clit, your thighs quaking on either side of him. 

Gripping both of your thighs, patches forced your lower half into the air, legs over his shoulders. You gasped at the sudden position, your walls had tunneled inwards far too tightly, squeezing him in velvety heat. 

You could feel yourself nearing the end, allowing this bastard to use you as though you weighed nothing. He appeared unperturbed, relaxed even, as his dagger cut grin gleamed down at you as though you were nothing but prey. Your voice increased in pitch, muscles spasming as a final thrust and flick of your clit had you thrashing and cumming all over the old table. 

Patches didn't stop. He was relentless in his pace, truly unbreakable in resolve no matter how much your pussy tightened and sucked him in. "Squeezing me right up, you are. What happened to that stoic knight you once was?" 

Your expression remained dazed, barely coming down from your high. You managed a weak glare, however. "You talk an awful lot." You huffed, lifting your hips in time with his thrusts. 

The man chuckled at your weak attempt to appear even remotely ireful towards him, and immediately slammed into you viciously, the sounds of your wet sex permeating the air loudly. Mouth agape, you cried out wantonly. Your mind felt mushed, and you couldn't deny that you truly adored the pleasure he gave you.

You sputtered as three fingers were suddenly forced into your mouth, unhinging your jaw and causing saliva to drip down your neck. "Practice makes perfect, my dear. You'll accustom to the feeling of being stuffed at both ends in no times."

You whined needily around the digits, suddenly the thought was far too appealing. You garbled incoherently around his fingers, envisioning your friends pawing at your body and passing you around like a whore. Keening into the mans thrusts, your cheeks flamed red, and you eventually succumbed to his ministrations and vulgar promises.

Patches lecherous grin was surely cut into a shape by a demon. "Suck my fingers, you dirty thing. Whose cock are you imagining? Eygon? Orbeck? Anri?" He tossed names around, feeling your insides contract and pulse greedily.

Your cries were echoing throughout the room, reverberating off of the walls for any passerbyers to hear clearly. Eyes lidded, you couldn't string a thought together, not while such a thick cock pounded into you sinfully. 

Hands instinctively gripping at his own, the one plunged into your mouth, you squeezed his wrist desperately, head lolling back as the second, third - fourth, even? - orgasm rolled over you one after the other, like an immovable boulder crashing down a steep mountain. 

Your neck and chest were lathered in drool, messily smearing from the merchants fingers and down over his wrist. Your thighs were soaked, gushing like a stream down the wooden table. You could hardly breathe or see, your mind blanking out the vicious, sardonic comments he often threw at you.

You groaned weakly, thighs quaking erratically as patches finally oozed his thick liquid into you, coating your walls in its warmth. Blearily gazing up at him, you sighed contentedly.

You really did hate him, but he certainly knew how to fuck. 

Wet fingers being wiped onto your thighs had you coming back to reality. He had retrieved himself and dressed in an instant. "Well, that settles it, then. Welcome aboard, I look forward to doing business with you." He cackled.

You glared vehemently at him. Still, despite all your hatred for that man, you were beyond satisfied. 

With a final hyena-like laugh, the man departed with a single, half hearted wave, leaving you to clean yourself up.

The next time you faced him, you wouldn't be so weak. Perhaps he'd be the one on the receiving end. It brought a grin to your face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How--how awful! Patches, how dare you attempt to force reader into prostituing herself! We do not condone this!!
> 
> (I'd have no qualms about being passed around to eygon, anri, leonhard and Orbeck 🤤)


	13. Ornstein -f/m (mommy kink)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody knew him as the mightiest dragonslayer in the world. They were right. 
> 
> Celeste, however, knew a far more secretive part of him that the entire nation would never believe. Thats okay, she was good at keeping secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how I feel about this. Like the parts describing him saying mommy. I hope it seems okay. As per request I hope you all enjoy either way. 
> 
> Also now that I'm reading back over it I'm thirsting for nameless King and Artorias againnnnnnn

☆Ornstein the mommy boi☆  
\----------------------------------------------

The incandescent rays of the sun warmed the white, pristine streets of Anor Londo's human district, highlighting the era of prosperity and peace.

Markets flourished with plenty to sell; people from various cultures came to bask in the beauty of the exquisite silk sold in the bristling, central market. An amalgamation of mixed voices boomed throughout the town, humans queueing for their turn of acquiring rare goods from the many stalls that littered the town in a neat line.

The stalls did not depict the same brilliance of the upper district of Anor Londo, however it was a dazzling sight to behold regardless. Gwyn, alongside the magnificent architects of the city of Gods, suggested that humans receive their own modern markets, homes.

Alas, the humans of Anor Londo proved to be very unique creatures; a grand mixture of various cultures allowed them to form their own shops, decorated in whatever fashion they wanted. Naturally, they acquiesced happily along with Gwyn's plans for the most part.

But this, however, would solely be left to them, and held within a council to extract votes. Thus, the human market of the South was formed, in all its unparalleled beauty. Intricately designed tents lined either side of the long road - long enough to ultimately lead to the Palace - with shades of various colours ranging from gold, white and red decorating said stalls. 

Many ventured from all over to witness such a display. There was naught another place that sold the wares within Anor Londo. Truly, the city, lower and upper districts included, was singular and unrivalled in its multiculturalism. Items from even beyond the Far East made their way to the markets. 

Still, it was no easy feat receiving passage through the city. One would need various documents of proof - identification, signatures of the higher-ups who would deem you worthy to travel. 

The signatures were imbued with magic from Oolacile; forging was impossible. Only the grandest, most trusted men were in the position to deliver such a signature. And even then, there was a lengthy process of interviews, check ups, even demanding ones criminal record. 

Alas, if one happens to be from an isolated, small town with no birth certificates, no records, then entry was forbidden. Unless said person ventured to Oolacile and was granted permission to their Archives. Then, and only then, would an archmage of utmost trust declare you worthy of a legible certificate. Of course, magic was included.

It was not difficult to form a spell of truth. Only to be used in these situations, of course. There were rules which stated that using such spells could not be over used, or used wrongly and maliciously. 

It made sense. The spells of truth were needed for those without any proof of identity. More often than not, most people told the truth. Some didn't. Still, Anor Londo was impenetrable; it mattered not.

Anor Londo was a safe place. An intruder wouldn't last a second with the many silver knights lining the astronomically sized wall surrounding the perimeter of the grand city. The only true threat was the dragons. The mages of Gwyn could often form deflective shields to prevent dragon fire from destroying the citizens.

On rare occasions, that wasn't enough. Regardless, this year had been a prosperous one indeed. There had been a disastrous hiccup at the small barracks stationed outside of Anor Londo, within the forest, but it has been dealt with promptly.

The mission was urgent. So urgent, in fact, that Gwyn's four knights had left in search of the beast that threatens to terrorise the city. The dragon had come close to destroying the very edge of Anor Londo, a small section of the town, but failed as the dragonslayer arrows repelled it. Unfortunately, its fire destroyed the barracks outside of the walls.

Few died. Even so, it was enough reason to end the beasts tyranny. The four knights had been gone for two days, and the entire city was bristling with gossip, excitement and nervous anticipation. Even the nobles of the very small ring sectioned just before the private gardens of the Palace had been shaken with nerves, eager to know of the situation.

It was mid afternoon, the sun was now at it's peak and everybody seemed to be busy with life. There were far more knights on the lookout, their massive form standing stoically, waiting. Businesses thrived. Those who were lucky enough to get a day off were swift in gathering their weekly shop of bread, fruit, cheese, meat.

All were restless. Gwyn did not permit any exit of the city until his knights had returned. The artisans of the city were itching to go out into the forest and get to work in gathering logs, hunting or mining.

Regardless of their minor plight, it seemed that the dominating stalls of the market were the ones that sold intricately painted ceramics and the leather goods on sale at the moment. There were groups of men wagering on the latest find: a unique, thin katana from the east, brought in by an Eastern tradesman who stayed for a mere three months of the year, then disappeared for the remaining nine. 

The streets were utterly booming unlike anything Celeste had ever seen. Basket in hand, the maid could hardly squeeze passed the mass of people dominating the area. With the knights gone temporarily, it gave her time to buy a few bits and bobs that she had set her eyes on upon every passing. 

"Oh, I do very much like this", Celeste admonished, hand brushing the soft fabric of a lilac dress on display. 

"Isn't it simply wondrous? The colour truly compliments your skintone, I'd say. Would miss be interested in purchasing this item?" A young man adorned in simple workers garb smiled, tipping his hat politely at the woman. 

Celeste nodded, appreciative of such a compliment, and dug into her purse for a handful of coins, and more, to give to the polite gentleman. 

That was the idea, anyway.

A thunderous booming of a bell resounded throughout the entire market, ringing loud enough to pierce ears as the entire market gasped in fright, dropping all their tasks or baskets and gazing up worriedly at the silver knights patrolling the upper wall protecting the town. 

Celeste froze; her heart plummeted. A dragon?

Whispers mingled loudly throughout the town, everybody stood to their feet in terrified anticipation. The knights could be seen conversing amongst themselves, no doubt attempting to identify whatever it was they saw.

And then the next words had the town in complete uproar.

"Open the gates! The Captain and his knights have returned!"

"Open the gates!"

"Open the gates!"

Celeste gasped, smiling as broad as ever. Cheers and appraisal was screamed from the humans of the market, scrambling to make way for the imposing and towering forms of the knights. Everybody settled neatly along either side of the road, anticipating the moment the four walked through the gargantuan gates.

It was a gold shimmer of armour that had everybody jumping and cheering wildly. In the captains large fist sat the head of a dragon, black and bloodied. He raised it for all to see, increasing the volume of praise and adoration from the crowd.

Silver knights dutifully shielded the four from any incoming humans who sought to grab them, though most stood back respectfully. The wolf knight was as modest as always, raising a simple hand as though to convey his wish to settle the humans and their praise. Helmet within his hands, he offered a small smile of gratitude. 

The Blade of the group naturally did not react. She walked with the grace of a royal and the power of a seasoned killer, offering a turse, silent nod in recognition of the multiple cheers. Although her form was far shorter than those of her companions, she still stood at 6 foot, taller than most men of the city. 

Gough, the proud giant, settled at the back of the group and offered his humble thanks to all who supported them in their endeavours. Often, he was the sentimental spokesperson, adept in unscripted speeches and demonstrations of gratitude. 

And then, at the centre and pinnacle of it all, stood the most seasoned, esteemed Dragonslayer in the entire world. Captain of the four knights, Ornstein, walked with all the prowess and noble pride of a lion, remaining silent in the ongoing applause until the knights reached the second gate, entering the upper city. Turning fluidly, the man addressed the crowd.

"The beasts tyranny has come to an end. Once more, this captain of all knights commends you for such deep appreciation. Fear not, citizens of Anor Londo; peace will prevail." He was a man of brevity; with that, the golden lion disappeared behind the gates with the uproar of even louder cheers. 

Celeste pushed her way through the crowd. With a brief nod from the silver knights, she was granted immediate passage. As a personal maid to Ornstein himself, she supposed it gave her a few perks. 

Celeste would greet the four at the front of the Palace, alongside the other maids, nobles and knights. 

The Firstborn was certain to make an appearance, too. 

\---------------------

The Firstborn had indeed arrived, alongside all of the personal maids and silver knights patrolling the outside area. The white mane of the God of War flowed elegantly in the breeze, a smile as bright as the sun upon his face. "A feast is in order, no? An act of utter brilliance as always, my loyal knights." The Firstborn clapped slowly, reaching the four in a huddled circle of intimacy. 

Celeste stood dutifully to the side, in line with her other colleagues. The dragonslayer was the first to respond. "Thank you, my Lord, though I believe it would be improper for us to attend a royal feast, judging by the state of our attire." 

The Firstborn guffawed heartily, a companionable arm wrapping around the captains shoulders. "Indeed, I will not steal anymore precious time from you. But first, tell me, did I miss much?"

Artorias quirked a smile. He hummed teasingly. "Oh, not too much, my Prince. Except, well.." 

"One of the greatest battles against an ancient dragon, ever?" Ciaran finished lightly, amused at the princes eager fascination. 

"Agreed. Twas a shot like no other, from my greatbow." Gough chimed in deeply, voice soft and welcoming despite his size. "A shame that you should miss it, my Lord."

The Firstborn sighed dramatically, though the smile never left his lips. "If only I were there. Alas, I will hear all about it this evening, I'm sure. Good work, all of you." He chuckled. With a bow from all four, the Prince made his way to the Palace in search of his father.

The moment the Palace door shut, Ornstein released a sigh. "Right. Get yourselves cleaned up. We have another feast to endure." He grumbled, making his way into the Palace with the three trailing him and the maids following far behind. 

Ciaran grunted in the exact same tone as him - very much not wanting to go, but knowing that they have to. "Very well. I will seek you all later. Isabelle, come." The assassin called to her maid, who promptly followed. The two disappeared around the next corner.

Gough, too, disappeared with very little words said. In truth, nobody really knew where he ventured to most days. His maid followed obediently. The giant was kind enough, and often had the small human walk beside him as an equal. 

Artorias smiled, as usual, a small and modest flick of his lips. "Admittedly, I don't believe any of us are truly up for socialising amongst the royals. Regardless, it is a most welcomed gesture to be regarded so highly."

The wolf knight called to his maid, who was at his lanky side in an instant. "My wolf?" Queried the knight.

"In the stables, my Lord. We have kept her active these past two days, I will update you along the way. Sif has missed you greatly, if her incessant gnawing of the stables fence is anything to go by." The maid smiled, walking a few steps behind him. 

Artorias chuckled, and at once his smile grew in size. "I apologise for the inconvenience, I know how busy you are. Fortunately, Sif is now relinquished from your care."

"O-oh! Not at all, sir! Please, no apology needed." The two bounded the next corner, heading directly for the outside stables. 

Ornstein shook his head with a light scoff. That man and animals. As captain, it was only correct that he visit Lord Gwyn as soon as possible. Bypassing a few knights, Ornstein addressed them, to which they saluted on the spot and nodded their heads in respect. "Captain."

The dragonslayer lifted the bloodied head in his hands. "I am seeking Lord Gwyn. Take this to the trophy room." His tone held finality, much unlike how he spoke to his close companions, and the knights received the dragon head before nodding once more. "Yessir." 

Celeste followed behind, trailing somewhat to give the man a sense of privacy. He was as stoic as they got, statuesque almost, with a steadfast approach to all situations. Humans and knights alike cowered and admired him all the same. It was quite the task, being his personal maid. 

Staring at his tall form that stood at least 7 foot in height above ground - and that was merely his human form - Celeste watched the sunrays gleam off of his strong back. He carried himself with poise and authority. Truly, he was unrivalled. The captain stopped abruptly, causing Celeste to stop, too.

"Return to my private quarters. I wish for a bath and a change of clothes to be ready when I arrive." The lion knight demanded tersely as knights walked by and saluted silently. 

"Will a platter of grapes and a cup of wine be accompanying that request, my Lord?" Celeste requested softly, but loudly for the man to hear. The maid watched as his towering form turned only the slightest, not quite looking over his shoulder. It gave her sight to his impressive helmet and the snarl of a lion glinting at her. 

"Indeed. Now go, at once. I will return in mere minutes. Oh, and do have someone collect my armour. Its pristine condition has withered, I'm afraid. Make haste." 

"It shall be done." Celeste bowed; silver knights watched furtively as they passed. It seems everybody was curious to see the man conversing out of battle, for some reason or another. 

Ornstein resumed his brisk walk through the Palace, ignoring practically everybody on the same path until he stood before the grand, golden door to the sunlight God. He did not hesitate, and stepped in. 

"My Lord." Ornstein curtsied with a low bow and a fist to his chest. Gwyn glanced up from his seated position, resting the pile of papers clutched in his hand to the table. In Gwyn-like fashion, the God stood with a pleased smile upon his face, arms open in a display of welcome. 

"My most loyal knight, a fine battle has been won. And what trophies of War have you returned to me?" He boomed joyously with a certain grit to his tone. The God adored his collection of dragons.

"A head, my Lord, almost as big as the ancient dragon trophy from the great war." Ornstein delivered immediately.

"Oh? That is quite the feat. The record has not been beaten, then?" 

Ornstein shook his head. "Afraid not. It is, however, now rightfully second largest. We haven't come this close for a century, if I recall correctly." 

Gwyn beamed a rather sunny smile, and oddly did not react when the door suddenly smashed open from the force of his eldest son barging in, the handles imbedding themselves into the wall. Ornstein pretended not to notice. 

"Father, has the Captain told you all about it? Truly, a feast is in order!" He boomed just as loudly as his thunderous father. Having the two in the same room could be incredibly draining, especially during an argument. 

"Yes, my boy," Gwyn wrapped an arm around his eldest, shaking him roughly, playfully. "I couldn't agree more."

Ornstein was relieved to be dismissed a few minutes later. The sound of the father and son could be heard thundering from behind the door, as usual. Repressing a sigh, Ornstein made his way back to his Chambers, where a bath and wine awaited him.

Silver knights praised the captain along the way, voicing brief words of respect, and saluting in perfect form. Ornstein bypassed silently with a nod throughout the many corridors, until he saw the sight of his private quarters with his maid waiting dutifully outside of his room, hands clasped neatly together.

Upon approach, Celeste bowed deeply. "Your bath awaits you, sir. Will any further assistance be required?" She queried politely, gazing up at his towering form in earnest. 

The dragonslayer shook his head, hand reaching for the door. Celeste shifted to the side. "No, leave me." His deep voice muttered with the evident desire to be isolated. It was a somewhat irritated tone that Celeste had become accustomed to. 

The maid nodded. "Of course, Sir". The captain had disappeared behind the grand, red door before she even finished her sentence. It needn't be stated to him, but she'd send for two knights to retrieve his armour regardless. 

Within the room, Ornstein heaved a sigh, the beginnings of fatigue settling into his eyes. Hopefully this feast did not end like the last - Artorias far too inebriated, no doubt because of the Firstborn, and unable to get up from the floor. 

Settling into the bath, Ornstein truly hoped that this feast would be a swift one. 

\------------------

It had been pleasant, at least, despite the few hiccups along the way. Gwyn had personally threatened to banish the Firstborn if anymore sunlight spears were thrown due to his drunken squabbling with Havel, of all people; an older man who had an apparent dislike towards the older Prince.

The Firstborn was as tempestuous as a dragon. His fiery temper and reckless behaviour has often led him to be in the bad books of Gwyn's generals and most highly ranked knights. Not for a lack of respect - the firstborn was terrifyingly strong and skilled - but moreso for his personality.

Ornstein wondered if in later years, when the prince had truly become a man, would that temper of his spiral out of control one day.

Positively, Artorias had not collapsed to the floor like a dead animal this time. Apparently, the boy was becoming accustomed to the fine liquor and wine of Anor Londo. 

And the food had been exquisite, as always. Gwynevere demanded that the maids had their fair share, too, and towards the end of the night the many women sat in a small, huddled group in the far corner, eating and marvelling at the wondrous food. 

The four personal maids of Gwyns knights sat a tad closer, a mere table away from the  
four. All due to Celeste insisting they sit closeby incase they require anything. Artorias had thanked them modestly for doing so. 

Chatting amongst the other three maids quietly proved to be interesting. Already, Celeste had the notion that Artorias' maid truly adored him far more than what simple work ethic dictates of them. 

Meanwhile, Goughs maid appeared platonically passionate to the giant. Whispers about how the giant often treated her as his own flowed around the table, behind closed doors of course. In fact, the maid admitted to doing very, very little when it was only her and the giant, if only because the archer forbade the woman from working too hard. 

Isabelle, who Celeste had known the most, claimed in a whisper that the Blade wasn't as harsh as the mask she often demonstrated. Whilst maintaining the most professional relationship out of them all, Isabelle stated, with lips to her wine in subtlety, that the assassin was the most kindest woman she had met, and had a surprising sense of anxiety and clumsiness behind doors. 

And then their attention turned to Celeste earnestly. "Well? Whats the captain like?" The maids murmured softly, the sheer volume of the room blocking out any unwanted ears listening in.

Celeste shrugged delicately, nibbling at a piece of tender meat on her plate. Any gossip she shared could be trusted with these three, but Celeste suddenly realised that she did not have the same relationship as the others. Not at all. 

A slow smile formed across her face. "He's kind. A terrible over thinker, believe it or not. Not nearly as rude as he initially was. Though, even in private hes rather secretive." 

All maids listened intently, leaning forward with wide eyes. Of course they'd be interested in the Captain. He was an enigma to all. "And what of your relationship? Is it platonic? Professional? Romantic? You know we wouldn't tell."

Celeste raised her glass to her lips, stifling a smile behind the crystal clear rim. If only they knew. Celeste didn't think she could tell a soul, if only to preserve the captains honor. The things that man enjoyed were..so terribly shocking that she has no doubt even the maids would spill his secrets. 

Sipping lightly, Celeste's gaze swept over to the closeby table of the four, who were all chatting fondly and immersed in conversation. Her eyes honed in on the captains bare face. For a brief moment, golden eyes glanced back. The connection was promptly ended. 

"Its a tad unprofessional. Thats all I'm willing to say." Celeste giggled at the three maids exasperated expressions, they were practically on the edge of their seat. "Anyhow, I'm incredibly curious about the Wolf knight." Celeste murmured, leaning across the table alongside the others. It was a pleasant diversion from herself.

Artorias' maid giggled lightly behind her hand, peering cautiously in her masters direction before cupping a hand to her mouth. "You won't believe what I saw the other day-" she began.

Celeste smiled. Her blue orbs caught the honeyed golden eyes of the Captain once more. His companions chatted idly with the occasional laugh, unperturbed by his silence. But Celeste knew. Those deep pools of amber swirled viciously with something peculiar.

If only people knew the dirty little secrets behind closed doors.

\-------------------

The captains private bedchambers were as red as the mans hair. From the curtains, to the bedsheets and the many scrolls or maps littering the walls as modest decoration. Celeste had eaten her share of the feast alongside her other colleagues before promptly exiting to tend to the dragonslayers work load piled haphazardly upon his desk.

She was the maid of the Captain, after all. Anything less than pristine was not prohibited. Gripping the crumpled sheets of paper lathered across the entire desktop, Celeste neatly sectioned the work into specific piles; Ornstein was secretly a neat freak.

The entire room was tidied from top to bottom swiftly. There was little mess, but it was evident that the wolf knight had somehow snuck his pet in earlier on in the day, if the clumps of hair were anything to go by.

Satisfied, Celeste dutifully moved to stand outside of the captains quarters, hands clasped neatly just as he commanded. Timely, the echoing footsteps of said man bypassed each silver knight with grace, face as stern and as stoic as a statue. 

He towered over all, standing at over seven feet in his humanised body, with that wild mane of crimson flowing down his broad back like a lion. Ornstein was rigid; Amber eyes sharp and scrutinising. His head remained upturned, proud, and each maid that scuttled passed cowered with a meek greeting of his title. 

His expression appeared to be in an ever present, concentrated frown. The harshness of it was emphasised by sharp eyebrows, and despite the warm colour of his eyes, they were as cold as ice. Each knight tapped the butt of their spear upon the ground in respect. And then he was before her in no time. 

Without helmet, he stared down at his human maid with indifference, distaste. Celeste peered right back at him. "I do hope you enjoyed your night, my Lord. Will anything else be required of me?" Her tone was polite - always polite - but very much to the point. Contrasting to the bumbling, stuttering maids who usually approached him.

"Indeed; Come." He uttered, opening the door to his grand room. With an obedient nod, Celeste entered coolly, with the Captain close behind. The silver knights did not bat an eye.

And there it was; The door closed, and with it the ice hardening the captains face melted. His expression was docile, eyebrows settling into a neutral position as his lips parted only slightly. Celeste stared, waited, as the man slowly and methodically tugged off his armour in a routinely manner. 

He took his time - Celeste was patient. And then he stood before her, as always when in the privacy of his room, and stared. 

"Is my assistance required, sir?" Celeste raised her brows challengingly, watching the wall of a man crumble ever so slowly. 

"Yes. It is..required." he murmured quietly, though his nod was firm. Celeste didn't know how or when their little, unprofessional..copulation began, but it certainly unearthed some very interesting things about the ferocious knight before her. 

He was cold and rigid as always, incredibly intimidating even, and yet..

The tired look in his eyes gave her confirmation, but she needed to hear it. 

"And what do you need of me, sir? Or, perhaps I should ask, which version of me do you require?" Celeste questioned boldly; the man was either full on dominant or, well..

"I need.." the Captain hesitated in that deep, handsome voice of his, confliction etching across his face. His fists were clenched, a faint dusting of pink tinging his cheeks. "I need..m-mother." He bit out; the effort it took was evident. 

Celeste inclined her head as a hint to continue, eyebrows raising further upon his hesitance. He did not relent. Neither did she. Ornstein huffed, his sculpted face glaring towards the floor pridefully. "I need mommy." He mumbled, gnawing at his lip now.

Celeste could already feel her inner thighs warming deliciously at the weakness and vulnerability on the strong knights face. How could a man with such pride, honour and strength have a mommy kink? It bewildered her, but she loved it nonetheless. 

Smiling gently, Celeste took the large hands of the captain and smoothed her thumb over the knuckles. Instantly, her voice became soothing; no longer were they knight and maid. "If that is what you wish for, my dear." 

The Captain gripped at her waist delicately; clothes were eventually scattered amongst the floor. He was often the controller, the dominant, the alpha. But sometimes, he truly was just a young man deprived of love and care.

Celeste bit her lip as she peered down at the Captain who lay on his back, naked, with all his muscled glory in sight. She could care for him for a few hours, most certainly. 

\-----------------

Celeste sighed pleasantly as an eager tongue lathered up and down the slit of her sex, her plush thighs caging the wild mane of red. Likewise, the mans hands practically caged the entire girth of her thigh; he was massive, Godly, and her body atop his looked like a child in comparison. 

"Oh, thats brilliant; faster." Celeste hummed, tugging at the captains hair to make sure his face was flush against her wet lips. Her soft encouragement urged him on, and soon sturdy, steel-like hands banded around ass, gripping her and grinding her essence into his face vigourously.

Celeste moaned; he had the upperhand, always, and yet he did so love to submit. Tapping his hand, Celeste indicated for him to release her, to which he obeyed. Standing, the maid promptly towered above his form, staring down at the glistening of his lips and the brightness of his eyes lingering on her swollen sex, before plopping herself down against his crotch.

Hands upon his muscled abdomen, Celeste grinded gently against the rigid length of his cock, hard and swollen and bigger than a human male, sighing pleasantly as the hot flesh molded between her wet lips. "You're so terribly hard, my love. Do you want mommy to ease it?" 

Ornstein groaned, his handsomely sculpted face flushing an obscene amount of pretty pink. It flushed beautifully from his cheeks to his ears, and those pools of honey were simply melting at Celeste's words. The Captain huffed out a breath as his maid began gliding fluidly along his cock now, hips raising from base to tip in a repeated motion.

Each time his length caught her clit just right, she'd shudder and moan, moving a slow hand to gently circle the sensitive, wet tip of his cock; he was now shuddering. He inhaled sharply, hips jutting upwards at the sensitivity. "You aren't very compliant, are you? Give mommy what she wants, and she'll let you stretch her open like a good boy." 

The man, regardless of his secret kink, was as stubborn as always. He himself didn't quite want to admit to enjoying this, despite the way his cock pulsated and oozed precum. Jaw clenched and fists balled, Ornstein endured the equivalent of a thigh job at this point - what with Celeste suffocating his cock between her plush legs and cunt. 

The sensation was pleasant, and her slit was hot and slippery. Ornstein was beginning to feel himself falter, a groan forcing its way through clenched teeth as her hand slithered down to slyly rub the tip once more. 

"I want-", Ornstein hesitated, lip between his teeth as Celeste lifted her hips and rested delicately above his cock, the length in perfect alignment with her eager hole. "I want mommys cunt. Please." He spilled out swiftly, the depth of his voice shaking in a peculiar sense of arousing humiliation.

Celeste smiled, pleased, and began her descent upon the unyielding girth splitting her in two. Inch by inch, the Captain pushed through her tight walls all in accordance to her speed; Celeste controlled. 

Then, with a shuddering breath and a slow inhale, the maid sat flush against his lap, cock embedded completely. "So good, my sweet boy. You fill mommy perfectly. I can barely-" she grunted, shifting her hips comfortably, "I can barely sheath you whole." 

Ornstein frowned in pleasured concentration, his length squeezed to the point of being unbearable. Their size difference was vast; she was short for a human in general. Her words merely sought to expand the already wild flame within him. "M-move, please, when you're ready." He breathed out harshly, then at her steely stare added a swift "-mommy." 

Celeste didn't waste a second more. Hands upon his chiseled front, she lifted her hips slowly, before dropping back down with a resonant slap of skin. "Oh, you're so hard, my dear. Do you want to fill mommys tight cunt? She's so small, she might burst." Celeste moaned, keening further once the huge knights hands settled upon her waist.

Ornstein groaned lowly at the filthy words. Even in his hands, she was so small, the velvety walls squeezing him scaled far too well with her size, too. He nodded once "I- yes", he breathed roughly, "yes." He emphasised with a thrust upwards, greedily seeking the warmth of her wet sheath further. 

Celeste dug her nails into his sturdy form, gasping at the depth of him. Back arching, her supple breasts spilled forward enticingly as she bit her lip to silence her passionate sounds; they did not need anyone lurking outside to hear. 

Her movements slowed deliberately, hips moving in a languid pattern of soft, slapping skin. Even tiny movements forced a sound from her, a reaction. He was so large, shaping her walls and stimulating parts of her she forgot existed. Smiling slyly despite the flush spreading across her face, Celeste squatted upon his cock, only the tip slipping in and no further.

Ornstein groaned; her current position meant he could not thrust upwards. This went on for minutes, her wet cunt bared explicitly to him in her current position, his rigid length desperate to sink into her further than the tip.

Celeste moved a hand down to toy with her slippery clit, her sopping hole involuntarily squeezing his reddened tip as she gasped pleasantly and eyed him lustfully. Ornstein was flushed a pretty pink, lips parted and eyebrows creased as his hands fisted tightly at his sides. 

His restraint was dwindling. This woman was different; how could a human reveal dark secrets of him that he himself did not know? He groaned suddenly, a huff of frustration forcing its way from his teeth. 

Celeste was ruthless, she did not ease her teasing for minutes straight. When he least expected it; when his eyes would shut in a flutter and his head would loll back at the over whelming tingling warmth overcoming him, she would briefly engulf him whole, moaning wantonly as she did so with shaking limbs. He, too, would gasp, groan lowly in his throat, only to have the bliss ripped from him as she soon resumed her teasing.

Celeste was aching with need, but she cherished the moments the captain was in this type of mindset; his submission was a rare occurence. She supposed pride had something to do with it.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Ornstein huffed loudly, scowling - though celeste named it a 'pout' - and gripped her elevated thighs with desperation. His cock was pulsing, dripping from a mixture of fluids, and as angrily shaded red as his permanent flush. 

Golden eyes alight with need, the massive knight groaned, whined almost, though he reigned the sound in swiftly with a choked cough. "Please. This teasing- its insufferable." He scowled weakly, though the edge of it melted away as Celeste began rubbing his cock up the length of her sex, smearing her lubrication over him.

"How impatient for a captain." Celeste chastised lightly, using the mans appendage to please her clit selfishly with a shudder. "Do not think I have forgotten how insufferable you yourself can be." She smirked playfully, easing herself to fully engulf the tip once more in her warmth.

"Beg." The utterance was cold, demanding, though the spark of soft adoration lingered in her eyes, along with the soft touches against his hips as encouragement. 

Ornstein, despite his natural ego telling him to remain stubborn, could feel the arousal born from her words curl within him pleasantly. It was warming, delicate, and he felt..Cared for. In a peculiar manner. 

Swallowing, Ornstein exhaled a softer huff, eyes darting to the side in contemplation. It was embarrassing, unseemly of a man of his status to..do this, but..

He couldn't deny his own enjoyment of it. The icy will within him melted like flesh to a dragons fire; he could withstand it no longer. Cheeks growing impossibly redder, his honeyed orbs melted into her own. "P-please, mommy. I..I want to cum. I want-" he hesitated, now fully aware of the glee within her eyes. "I want your cunt, mommy. I want you to..to care for me.." 

The captain below her began to tumble out words rapidly, seeking to please her, all while growing more timid as time went on. Having this man crumble below her was a delight enough that it always had her wet. 

Biting her lip, Celeste shifted her legs from a squatted position to resting on her knees on either side of his hips. Smiling tenderly, the maid spared no longer and began her descent upon the impossibly hard length, moaning gently as it filled her endlessly until she finally hit against his lap.

Ornstein openly moaned, albeit quietly and lowly, a fist moving to cover his mouth. Her cunt was exquisitely tight and wet, so warm it stung like cold hands in hot water. "Oh, Ornstein," Celeste moaned, head lolling back as the Captain instantly began thrusting up into her. 

"Your cock is so big, sweetie. Do you like pleasing mommy? Stretching her little human cunt? Mm, I bet you do." Celeste cried out, fucking herself against his firm cock with reckless abandon. 

Ornstein choked on a gasp, gripping her thighs tightly. "Y-yes, please." He bit out, and in an instant Celeste was gasping as the man gripped her waist tightly and suddenly her back was against the bed. 

Eyes wide and alight, Celeste began to reprimand the knight, only to cry out blissfully as his huge form towered over her and his cock slipped in fully. "F-forgive me; allow me to please you." 

Celeste released a barrage of high pitched, keening moans as the knight fucked into her cunt until the gushing sounds of their joint bodies permeated the room. Celeste exhaled sharply at each thrust of his large cock, hips rising to meet his own as her impending orgasm finally reached its pinnacle; the maid could hardly retain her cries as she arched her back at the mind numbing sensation.

Ornstein groaned lowly as her cunt tightened around him, gushing warmth and wetness all around him. Celeste was whining below him, gripping at his forearms for leverage as he pummeled into her roughly, one hand clasped over her mouth. 

With an elongated groan, the red haired knight emptied himself into his maid, filling her small hole until it flowed out around his cock. Celeste gasped into his hands, eyes lidding as the warmth of his cum soothed her insides. 

He removed his hand as soon as the two had become quiet. Celeste sighed pleasantly, reaching down as he retrieved himself to open her lips with two fingers. "You fill mommy so much. I can hardly look at a human male anymore; their inadequacy compared to you is a letdown."

Despite himself, Ornstein snorted at her honesty and moved silently to lay beside her, head resting against her chest. Celeste smiled softly, a hand moving to brush through his wild locks softly.

She had no issue keeping their frequent sessions a secret. She was the only woman in the world to bring the mighty Dragonslayer to his knees, after all.

It was something worth cherishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot ass dragonslayer


End file.
